No Longer the Villain
by Acciodoublestuffed
Summary: A hospital trip and a few court cases later, Syndrome finds himself seeking revenge once more, and now he has the perfect plan. All he needs is a pawn. When Violet is kidnapped, will she learn that people can change?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the Incredibles. If only.

A/N: I've been thinking about this story for a long time! I really hope you guys like it! I've read only a few syndromeXviolet fics, but I think I have a pretty new take on everything! The first two chapters are more background information and insight into the characters, but chapter 3 gets the plot into motion. Well read and review! P.S. this is in no, way, shape, or form related to Mind Games, in case you were wondering. Also I **know** that there are more Synlet (that's what I have dubbed syndrome and violet fans, hehe, catchy huh!) fans out there! Don't give me that face, I know you like it!

**Timeline**: Syndrome's trial took one year. Then his house arrest was for four months. I'm guessing that Syndrome was eight when he attempted to become Incrediboy. So during the movie I'm saying that he was twenty-three. I'm also considering that the movie took place during spring. (They did go to a track meet) So Violet had just finished her eighth grade year and was going to be a freshman. Now a year and four months later she is into her sophomore year of high school, and she is **fifteen**, while Syndrome is **twenty-four**. I'm guessing its late August-early-September-ish. There you go, the longest background info you will ever get!

Chapter 1

Let me begin by saying, I should be dead. If not by natural causes then I should rightfully be on death row, or at least lifetime imprisonment, but thanks to the world's best lawyer, or liar as most would say, all I owe the United States of America is an exorbitant fine and four month's of house arrest. What a world we live in.

You are probably wondering how I survived. It's not every day someone survives being sucked into a turbine engine, but not everyone has zero point energy either. After the crash I was quickly apprehended. The Incredibles were brought in to confirm my identity, as if there was any doubt. I couldn't help but smirk at their reactions.

Strange, how enough money can buy you almost anything. It bought me my freedom. My lawyer pled that I was actually doing the world a favor ridding them of the supers. _Ha!_ The country had yet to retract the anti-super laws, but where working twenty-four hours a day on it, trying to finish it before my trial. All I had to do was filter enough cash through the right people to get my case finished before the supers were granted their full rights back, and there you have it. I beat the system, and it wasn't all that hard, just costly.

You are also probably wondering where I got the money to pull off such a charade. NSA may have frozen all my _American_ assets, but they couldn't touch my international ones. The publicity from the trial actually increased SyndroCorp's profit margins by sixty percent. I couldn't help laughing when I saw the fat man's face. The way he stormed out of the court room when they read the sentence. Priceless!

Now that I look back on it all, I did go a bit over board, killing all those supers when there was only one I really wanted,_ him_, the man who forever stained my child hood with painful memories. All I wanted was to be a hero, but no. Though I didn't have any true condemnation, I will forever be remembered as the villain. Though I doubt anyone would believe me, I never wanted to be the villain, truly I didn't, but these past fourteen months have given me time to think, or better yet, plot.

Tomorrow I am free to leave my house, and I plan on making a formal apology on the television later that night. I will be extremely distraught over my past transgressions of course, and I will promise to only use my power and influence for the good of mankind, blah, blah, blah. My company will quickly become acclaimed for giving to charitable foundations and those types of things, but truly it's all a farce because now I have a plan, a way to exact my perfect revenge. Soon enough the family will put down there guard. They will think like the rest of the world that I've "changed" but that is their folly. All I need is pawn. Anyone of them will work, but which one? Truly it doesn't matter as long as I have one. Then my plan will unfold. No longer will I be the villain, no longer.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own the Incredibles because if I did a sequel would so be out by now!

A/N: Yeah, I forgot to mention, this fanfiction will be updated _very_ sporadically! I have three of fictions I am committed to, and two books I hope to have published some day, and, of course, we can't forget school, _unfortunately_! I am so impatient! I had planned on finishing at least two of my other fictions before posting this one _and_ having this one done before I post it! Oh well, I am upset that there are no other Synlet fictions (those other Synlet authors I applaud you loud applause ensues until a voice from downstairs yells "pipe down")

**Timeline**: Syndrome's trial took one year. Then his house arrest was for four months. I'm guessing that Syndrome was eight when he attempted to become Incrediboy. So during the movie I'm saying that he was twenty-three. I'm also considering that the movie took place during spring. (They did go to a track meet) So Violet had just finished her eighth grade year and was going to be a freshman. Now a year and four months later she is into her sophomore year of high school, and she is fifteen (with Syndrome being twenty-four). I'm guessing its late August-early-September-ish. There you go, the longest background info you will ever get!

Chapter 2

Let me begin by saying, I love being a super. Truly, truly I do, but sometimes, even now when my family doesn't have to hide anymore, sometimes the idea, or maybe wish, of being normal creeps into my mind. I know that being a super is a privilege and I am extremely lucky to be one, but I also miss out on so many things, for instance, my ex-boyfriend, Tony Rydinger.

We had been dating for about six months, ever since we defeated Syndrome, but I knew the end was near. After congress reinstated our rights to publicly fight crime, me and the family had been extremely busy which meant a lot of me blowing of my dates with Tony or having to run out on them. I knew what he was going to say long before he actually did. All week he had been quiet and reserved. He didn't call until late Friday night. Luckily, I had just gotten back from our nightly routine of patrolling the area. He asked me to meet him at a coffee shop the next morning. That was when it actually hit me. I mean the idea had tugged at the back of my mind, but that was when it finally hit home. _He is going to break up with me_. You see, Tony never, and I mean _never_, gets up before noon on a Saturday, unless threatened with his life, not literally of course, (being a super and actually _having_ your life threatened makes you see the need to clarify things like that) but I think you get the picture. So I met him there ready for what he was going to say…

_It was early spring freshman year, and the trees and flowers were just starting to bloom. I would have been entranced by their beauty if I wasn't going to meet my boyfriend where his dumping me was inevitable. I step into the coffee shop and look around for him. I look around expecting to find someone on the verge of sleep, but to my surprise I see a very awake, though somber, Tony sitting at a table for two near the back window. I order a frappeccino and take a seat next to him. _

"_Violet, I really like you, but I think we should just be friends. I just don't think either of us have time for a relationship right now."_ _He spit the words out quickly, as if holding them in was excruciatingly painful. 'Wow right to the point,' I remember thinking. What he means is he doesn't have time to wait around for me, but I don't blame him. I'd do the same thing if I were in his shoes. _

_I nod my head, hiding my sadness, and lie, "I agree totally." _

_He smiles, relieved. He hadn't thought I'd take it this well, but then again he doesn't actually know that much about me now does he… _

Actually, true to his word, we have stayed friends. He comes to me with questions and I give him advice. We occasionally go to a movie, but it's not the same. Recently, to my utter surprise and dismay, he has taken up with a blond, air-headed cheerleader. They seem happy enough, though I'm sure she can't carry on nearly as deep conversations as I did with Tony, but it doesn't matter now. I truly have gotten over him even if it did take me a year. There was one thing that helped keep my mind off it, Syndrome.

I had been absolutely shocked the day Rick Dicker called my dad and said we needed to come down to the station right away. I gasped when I saw him. There was no mistaking it. How he survived I have no idea, but somehow he did. I swear I saw him smirk when he noticed us on the other side of the glassed in room where they take inmates to have phone conversations. His gaze was so unnerving, and I think he realizes this because he made a point to make eye contact with each one of us, even Jack-Jack. We caught eyes as I was walking out. I wanted to look away, but I didn't want to appear weak. I had always heard that not maintaining eye contact proves that the other person is more powerful than you. So I stared. I refused to look away, but those eyes, those deep, blue eyes, so cold, so unnerving. Finally, I relented. I looked away. I still regret it, but what else could I do?

It got worse. The day of the trial arrived. It had been a year later. We had to miss one of Dash's track meets to be there. We arrived in our super suits and sat with Luscious, or that day as Frozone, but we weren't the only ones. Many of the wives and children of the supers Syndrome had killed had also shown up. Rick Dicker had warned us that the trial would probably go in his favor since congress still hadn't passed the new super rights bill, but I didn't believe him. How could any sane person not give him the death penalty? I wasn't ready for it. I realize that now. When the Chief Justice read the sentence my dad yelled and stormed out of the courtroom. The entire place broke into chatter, shouts, and even crying, but I was in a world of my own. For the second time we caught eyes. I saw him smirk. I felt complete disgust. I wanted to cry. I _was_ crying. I let him see me cry, and once again I let him win. I looked away. Finally the judge's mallet brought me back into the real world.

It's still hard to believe that today he is free. That officially Syndrome has paid his debt to society and is free to go. I can hear dad yelling from the living room, and I run to see what the fuss is all about. Dad and mom are having a, well, heated discussion. I look around to see what triggered it, and then I see it. Syndrome is on the television. He is apologizing and saying that though he can never undo what he did he will try his best to make it up to society. Dad says that is absolute BS, which shocks me slightly. He is never one to cuss, but I kind of understand. Then there is a part of me that as I watch Syndrome's face, which is no longer hidden by a mask, I truly hope that he is being sincere. The logical part of my brain is screaming "What are you thinking? This man tried to kill you. Did you ever consider he might be, you know, lying? Adults do that from time to time." That is probably true. He probably is lying, but somehow I hope not. I want him to be telling the truth. Does someone always have to be the villain or can they really change? I hope they can. I truly hope he can.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own the Incredibles, and I can admit that now…

A/N: I am really excited about this fiction, probably more so than any other fiction I've done. I just love the syndromeXviolet paring because it's so different. Romeo and Juliet-ish, except Romeo didn't try to murder all the Capulets, but you get the picture. That is also probably why I like the Zutara story lines, but whatever, I'm getting side tracked. Note, I tried to minimize the age difference as much as possible, but the story doesn't allow for too much of that. So they are nine years apart, and that's as good as it's going to get! Once again I got impatient. I had planned on _just_ posting those first two chapters, to get you all interested, but then my anger at the lack of Synlet fictions just got to me. So, now I only have one more chapter that is fully finished, and half of another. Ughhh, I was trying to get away from having to make everyone wait while I write the chapters one at a time!

**Timeline**: Syndrome's trial took one year. Then his house arrest was for four months. I'm guessing that Syndrome was eight when he attempted to become Incrediboy. So during the movie I'm saying that he was twenty-three. I'm also considering that the movie took place during spring. (They did go to a track meet) So Violet had just finished her eighth grade year and was going to be a freshman. Now a year and four months later she is into her sophomore year of high school, and she is fifteen, while Syndrome is twenty-four. I'm guessing its late August-early-September-ish. There you go, the longest background info you will ever get!

Chapter 3

It had been three weeks since Syndrome's public apology and, true to his word, he had changed. Bob Parr believed that it was simply an outward change, but even he could not deny that Syndrome was very different. Now he donated extremely often, closed the weapons department in his company, partook in marathons, and even made others refer to him as 'Buddy.' Quickly enough the public began to turn in his favor.

Mr. Incredible's frustration with the whole ordeal was beginning to drag his morale down, and that of his family. They all knew what he was going through, but no one knew how to talk to him about it. Finally Helen confronted him one night before bed. She was folding clothes, and he was brushing his teeth. She was reluctant to bring up the touchy subject, but it had to be done. "Bob I hate to say it, but maybe he has changed."

Bob froze. She heard the sound of bristles against teeth cease, and the click of the plastic brush on the sink. She turned around from where she had been putting clothes into their proper drawers. She knew this wasn't going to go well.

Bob slowly shook himself out of the stupor. 'How could she have said that?' He slowly rinsed his mouth. Helen was unsettled by his unusual silence. She tried to find out what he was thinking. "Bob-"

"He tried to kill us! Not just me, or even you, but the kids, and Jack-Jack." He yelled as loudly as he could without risking waking the others. "That man is as innocent as the devil!"

"It doesn't matter if he's innocent-"

"INNO-"

She had to get through to him. "-But you're letting it get the better of you, and it's hurting the kids and me. Bob you have to let go of your own reservations for yourself if not just for us. We love you." She went over and hugged her husband.

Bob held her tightly, but was gentle knowing his own strength. 'She's right,' he realized. He had been allowing his own misgivings to ruin his own life. "Ok, but he almost killed you guys. I told you once, I won't lose you again."

Helen laughed slightly. "The kids have become pretty capable in the last year." Bob laughed thinking back on the time the family had found out Jack-Jack had powers.

He sighed. "Maybe you're right."

oOo

Violet sat at the dining room table on Friday night, clicking her pen. She was writing, or trying to write, a paper for Spanish II. She had no idea where to start and slowly her mind began to wander. Earlier that day, Tony had asked if she was going to the movies with everyone else, but Violet knew nothing about it. Ever since her break up with Tony, her social status had taken a significant drop. The girls that had only pretended to befriend her now ignored her completely while trying to win the attention of Tony and his new girlfriend. That didn't really bother her that much, but times like this, spending Friday night babysitting and doing homework, really made her feel rather pathetic. Her parents had gone out with Luscious and Honey, and Dash was spending the night at a friend's house, leaving Jack-Jack with Violet, who had finally gone to sleep, but without a fight. He had transformed into solid lead and tried to float out of his crib. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her door bell.

She was alone and didn't really want to open the door, though it sounded really childish, but she was always slightly jumpy when she was home alone. "Who is it?"

"Exterminator," a man's voice answered back. Mom had said that the exterminator was due to stop by sometime this week. She opened the door to two men wearing ugly, green jumpsuits. Violet looked them up and down cautiously. They did seem to be legitimate. "Would it be possible for you to leave the house while we spray for your own safety?" the taller man asked.

"Yeah, sure." Violet went and got Jack-Jack. She went to the next door neighbors, an elderly couple who were always there if someone needed anything. They let her take the toddler into a spare bedroom and use the phone to call her parents cell phone. Her mom's voice came onto the other line and she asked her about the exterminators just to be safe, but Helen assured Violet that they were supposed to stop by sometime this week.

After about an hour of listening to stories about the 'good old days,' and eating homemade cookies, Violet saw the large truck leave. She thanked the neighbors and took a sleeping Jack-Jack back to their house.

After tucking him into bed, she finished her paper, and finally got ready for bed herself. She had just turned the light off when she swore she heard a mechanical sound. Violet stopped herself from rushing to turn the light back on. No, she wouldn't let some imaginary fear freak her out. No one was there, but her and Jack-Jack! She slowly laid back down and forced herself to think about something else. Finally he pulse slowed and she fell asleep.

Though someone wasn't there in the house with Violet, someone had been watching her.

oOo

For the past two weeks Syndrome had been watching the Parr family's every move. He had learned their entire schedule and a lot more about them in general. He knew when they made their nightly rounds, to see what criminal activity was brewing, and that was what he had needed to know. Everything else was just a bonus. Also the security cameras would come in handy after the first phase of his plan was executed.

His plan: finally, the revenge that had been so close little more than a year ago, but now once again it would be within his grasp. He had planned it all into a fine art. Trustworthy men, all in non descript clothing, would perform some sort of every day crime, robbing the First National Bank of Metroville, then when the heroes arrived on the scene, they would fight just long enough for one of them to become seriously injured. They would then proceed to kidnap them and Syndrome's plan would be in motion.

It all seemed relatively simple, but he knew from experience that even the smallest slip up could ruin everything and he would be back on trial and this time no amount of money could pay his way out of it.

Suddenly movement on the screen in front of him brought his attention away from his own musings. The security cameras tried to focus on the movement, but it was impossible in the dark. Syndrome hadn't been able to sleep, anxiety he had assumed, or maybe even nerves. He had been alone since Mirage, and he wasn't really eager to jump into another relationship. He had decided to burn some time watching the security cameras. It was before dawn and the cameras were straining to zoom in. Syndrome turned on the infrared scanners. He finally could see a person, not a child, quickly moving around. Looking for something, perhaps?

He checked the computer number, six. It was the girl's room, the one that could disappear and make force fields. What was she doing up at this time. Didn't she like have school or something in a couple hours, no wait its Saturday. What's her problem? Then bright, yellow light filled the screen. Syndrome had to turn off the infrared to see what had happened. The girl, Violet, had turned on a light and was now reading a book. He wondered why he was so baffled by this. He watched for a while until she stopped, set the book down in a forceful way, reached over the night stand and grabbed one of many pictures sitting on it. He watched as she stared at it for a while. She abruptly crawled down her bed and threw open the window without another thought the she tossed the picture, frame and all, out the window. He continued to watch her, intrigued, as her lips moved rapidly. Now he wished that he hadn't been so cheap and declined the sound upgrade for the security cameras. What was she saying? He wanted to know, wait, what did he care? Confused and frustrated he leaned over and switched the camera off. That had been more than enough for one night, or morning, whichever way you look at it. He forced himself back into his room. He would need sleep for what was coming.

oOo

Friday had been the positively _worst_ day of her life. Well, actually, it had been a decent day like any other. It had just been her realization that had hurt. She still had feelings for Tony. Why had she lied to herself? Better yet, why had she believed herself?

It had started on Thursday night. There had been a football game, and Tony had asked if Violet wanted to go. He still was feeling guilt from Violet being excluded from the party invitation. He was going to watch Brittany cheer, of course, but it would still probably be fun, so she had said yes.

The game had been amazingly fun! Violet had had a wonderful time. Nothing else had mattered. It had been her and Tony, like the old days. The real trouble began the next day. In first hour the popular girls, Brittany wannabees, were crueler than usual and more blatant about it. Violet knew something was out of place, but it wasn't until lunch that she finally figured out what.

Kari ran over to where Violet was sitting eating her lunch. As usual she was rambling, and Vi had no idea what she was talking about. "Slow down!" she had to reach over and gently take hold of Kari's arm to make her stop and breath before starting again. When she was finally calm she proceeded to tell her that Brittany had watched them at the game and was now going around saying that Violet was trying to steal her boyfriend. She had no idea how to answer. Finally she formed the words, "That little liar!" she said them a bit louder than she had originally intended to, drawing unwanted attention.

Violet did the only thing she could think of: run. She ran from the lunchroom fighting back the tears. She may be slightly jealous of Brittany, or even a lot, and she might even still be attracted to Tony, but she would never, _never_, try to steal him from someone else. That was just wrong, and how could that pompon waving prissy go around spreading lies about her, like she didn't have enough trouble as it was! She was headed towards the girl's bathroom when she heard shouts. She stealthily crept up on the commotion, thankful to what her super experiences had taught her, temporarily distracted from her anguish. Finally she recognized the voices, Tony and Brittany.

"Would you just listen?" It was Tony.

"Why should I when I saw the way you were acting with _her_!" Violet inwardly scowled at the airhead.

"We're just friends. She and I both know that." He had finally managed to calm her down. She was leaning against a wall. Her arms were crossed, refusing to look at him. "And besides," he slowly walked closer to her, "there's no one I would rather be with than you."

She finally looked up, hope in her eyes, but quickly she buried it. "I don't believe you."

"Believe it," he took another step closer, taking her into his arms, not caring that they'd both get detention for PDA. "I love you," he said quietly, so quietly that Violet barley heard him, but she heard it. Then he kissed her, and she kissed him back. Argument closed.

Not for Violet though. Immediately she ran, straight to the girl's locker room where she finally released her tears. She waited there, crying until the bell rang signaling that lunch was over. Composing herself she returned to the halls to retrieve her book bag and try not to be late for the next class.

She was almost to the lunch room when someone she didn't want to see blocked her path. Violet tried to obstruct her view, not wanting to cry again. "Can we talk?" the cheerleader asked.

Violet looked up. "Sure I guess, but I forgot my book bag in the lunch room."

"It'll only take a second." Violet sighed and followed her into the now empty lunch room. "I just wanted to say, I'm sorry. I mistook friendship for something else, but now I know I was wrong, and I shouldn't have said those things about you. Can you ever forgive me?"

Violet blinked. She would have never expected this, but what was worse is she suddenly felt remorse. She _had_ wanted Tony back, and maybe it wasn't even the fact that she still had feelings for him, but she simply felt rejected and hurt that he would want someone else instead of her. Then she knew she was the one who should be apologizing. "No, I'm the one who should be apologizing. I probably have been getting too close to Tony. Seriously I'm sorry." They both hugged and cried, though Violet a little more reluctantly.

The rest of the day was a blur for her. When school was finally over she hurried over to the school bus. Since she was in high school, not to mention her mom had her hands full with Jack-Jack, Helen let both Violet and Dash ride the bus home. She took a seat in the middle and placed her backpack next to her. She really wasn't interested in company. Luckily, no one asked to sit down beside her, no one even talked to her, but it wasn't really much of a surprise.

Violet trudged home after the bus let her off. Thank goodness she was the only one for that stop. She entered the front door, only to be immediately knocked down by Dash. She growled as she picked herself up off the floor. Her mom's voice came around the corner. "Dash, no running in the house!"

Violet went directly into her bedroom and threw herself onto the bed. After a few minutes of pretending that she was asleep, she started working on what little homework she had. That was the only good thing that had happened. Violet was a very good student. She had made the A Honor Roll since grade school and was in almost all advanced placement classes.

Finally her mom yelled down for dinner. Violet put on a happy face, not wanting to share her dilemma with the entire family. Dash was already at the table watching both their parents struggle to get Jack-Jack into his high chair. It was a very funny sight, Violet had to admit, and she even laughed but not even that could make her feel much better.

After finally succeeding, her mom blew a stray piece of hair away from her face in frustration. "Thanks for the help, guys," she said sarcastically. Dash couldn't help laughing, but Violet mumbled a 'sorry.' She ate her meal in silence, listening to Dash ramble on and on about football practice. He had made quarterback with very little trying, but he was still on cloud nine about the whole thing. Violet smiled. She had always wished she had been better at sports, but that was definitely _not_ the case. She had taken P.E. her freshman year because it was required, but the very thought of being graded on ones athletic ability, or lack there of, and then being made fun of, still made her cringe. She still didn't understand how she could wipe the floor with villains while she was Invisigirl, but when she was simply Violet Parr, civilian, she could barely dribble a basketball.

After helping her mom load the dish washer, she decided to take a shower. She never took showers at night, but she just needed something to do to pass the time before bed. After she left the now steamy bathroom, she took refuge in her room and tried to sleep. For hours she tossed and turned barely dozing but never quite reaching sleep. Finally she decided to read a little. Maybe that would help her fall asleep. She rummaged around in her drawers. Finally she found the book she was looking for, a science fiction/fantasy novel. She clicked on her lamp and tried to immerse herself in the story line, but every few minutes she would only skim the words, her mind wandering.

She knew now what had happened. She didn't have feelings for Tony, beyond friendship. It was simply the fact that he would pick someone over her. It was a cut to her pride and self esteem, a deep, scaring cut. Finally she gave up the pretense of reading and set the book down beside her. Violet reached over and grabbed the picture of her and Tony that stayed on her night stand along with some family pictures and a few of her Kari. She stared at it for a long time. They had been at the park that day. They were sitting at a park bench. It was still before the break up. Violet looked at herself, then at him. She had to let go. Suddenly she threw off the covers and crawled across the bed to her window. She threw open the glass. She gently took of the screen covering, just like her dad had taught her to do in case of an emergency, and without a second thought she threw the picture out the window. The minute she let go she regretted it. What if it hit someone? It was too late to have remorse, she thought. For a long time she sat there looking out into the darkness. She had never thought it would be this hard to let someone go, or even the _idea_ of someone go. She had been holding onto the idea that she had feelings for Tony and the idea that he still had them for her. She had to let go. "Good bye, Tony, this time for real." She sighed, feeling like she could truly fall asleep now. She walked back to her bed, slower this time, turned off the light and let sleep take her.

oOo

Saturday, Violet woke up to a fully lit room. She smiled. Her mom had let her sleep in. She rarely let the kids sleep past nine on Saturdays. She must have known something was wrong. Violet laughed lightly. She couldn't fool Elastigirl. She rolled out of bed with a thud. She slowly picked herself up and went to the kitchen. Everyone else was already sitting at the dining room table eating cinnamon rolls. Her dad was reading the paper. On the font cover, Violet noticed, was an article about Syndrome, now Buddy, and his company's newest good deed. She had been rather happy that no new incidents had surfaced with Syndrome in the center of them, but neither was she naïve. She knew that this could very well be a cover up.

"Do you want two rolls or one?" her mom asked. She was smiling, but in a more compassionate way. She definitely knew something was wrong.

Violet wasn't really that hungry, but the rolls looked so good and she had had a bad week. "Two, thanks mom," she said hoping her mom noticed that she meant 'thank you for letting me sleep in.' Helen winked at her oldest child, signaling that she had gotten the message. The use of their old signal made Violet sincerely smile.

The family continued eating until the phone began to ring. They all stopped what they were doing. It wasn't the home phone. It was Bob's cell phone. The NSA needed the Incredibles. Bob rushed to his office to answer the phone. Violet strained to hear what was being said, but to no avail. Her father rushed out. "It's a basic bank robbery. Let's go." They each ran to their separate rooms to done their super suits. Elastigirl stayed behind to wait for Kari, her last resort as a babysitter. The rest of the family ran to the Incredibile. (A/N: is that what his car is named?)

When the three finally arrived something seemed slightly off, to Mr. Incredible. The "bad guys" where wearing very in descript clothing, black jump suits, and there was no distinguishable feature he could point out about the five men, all of which were armed. He shrugged it off and told himself that there was nothing to be alarmed about. He had promised Helen he wouldn't be so paranoid. Bob took account of the situation. The men were keeping the numerous policemen at bay and were pushing them back quickly. He signaled to the kids to say behind until he signaled.

He easily snuck up behind one of the criminals on the out skirts and called to the kids. Soon enough the entire family was in on the fight, Dash one on one, both Mr. Incredible and Invisigirl against two a piece. The fight was basic, but still taxing on all the family's strength.

Violet was panting for breath and was extremely thankful when one of the men left, but then she realized why. Out of her peripheral vision she saw the man set his gun on the figure of her brother. She watched, losing all focus on her own plight, and saw the man slowly pull back on the trigger. _"DASH!" _She created the force field just in time. The bullet ricocheted into the sky.

Violet let out a sigh of relief, but then she heard it, another shot. At first she felt nothing, only silence. To her the world seemed to move at a slower pace. She heard her father's voice. Only when the ground slowly contacted with her limp body, did time pick back up. She screamed and clutched her leg. She felt, through the pain, the warm, gooey, liquid seeping out of her upper leg, her own blood.

She continued screaming, squeezing her eyes shut, hoping to shut out the pain. Suddenly she felt herself being lifted off the ground. Violet opened her eyes only to see that she was in the arms of one of the masked men. With new found strength, she tried to push away. In the distance, she saw a helicopter landing. Fear gripped her. She wouldn't let them take her away. She struggled harder. Finally she felt something sharp against her side, and everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own the Incredibles, and I can admit that now…

A/N: Yeah, I had planned on waiting until chapter 5 was finished to post this one, but I get very impatient as you know, and since over break I plan on trying to update, maybe even finish my other stories (well, just one of them) I thought you all deserved an update on this story!

**Timeline**: Syndrome's trial took one year. Then his house arrest was for four months. I'm guessing that Syndrome was eight when he attempted to become Incrediboy. So during the movie I'm saying that he was twenty-three. I'm also considering that the movie took place during spring. (They did go to a track meet) So Violet had just finished her eighth grade year and was going to be a freshman. Now a year and four months later she is into her sophomore year of high school, and she is **fifteen**, while Syndrome is **twenty-four**. I'm guessing its late August-early-September-ish. There you go, the longest background info you will ever get!

Chapter 4

Violet gingerly blinked open her eyes only to quickly shut them. Why had mom opened the curtains? It was so freaking bright! She started to roll over, but immense pain prevented her. She cried out. Immediately it all came back, the fight, the gun shot, and the kidnapping-

"Well, you're awake."

Violet's eyes shot open, and felt as if someone had just knocked the wind out of her. _He_ was standing in front of her. She didn't move. She couldn't move. Fear had possessed her entirely.

Syndrome took it all in. He smiled. She was obviously scarred to death of him, and rightly so. He chuckled slightly. "Long time no see."

His sarcasm managed to snap Violet back to the real world. He was mocking her, that jerk. She had always known villains to taunt their prey, but something about the way he did it just irked her. She looked him up and down. He seemed to truly be enjoying every minute of her predicament. He was wearing slacks and a dress shirt, neither was sporting a mask, his knew "strictly business" look. Violet slowly took the time to asses the situation: 1.Syndrome had obviously kidnapped her for some heinous plot and 2.the guards at the door didn't seem too tough, if she could muster the strength to get out of the bed, maybe she could get out of this, or it was at least worth a try. Maybe it was all the pain killers talking, but really, the idea seemed feasible to her.

When Syndrome finally lost interest and went back to talking to the only other person in the room, presumably a doctor, she gently pushed back the blankets and allowed her legs to hang off the side of the hospital-like bed. It was then that she realized that she was no longer wearing her super suit. Instead she was in a plain, white shirt and loose, black pants. She felt the bandage on her upper thigh. Her head band was gone too, and her hair was hanging down around her face. She blew it, making it fly up and then back against her face. Violet placed it behind her ear, but it slowly went fell back to its original place. That would get old, _fast._

She looked around. No one had taken notice to her sudden, well, actually extremely slow, movement. She discreetly made a small force field. Ok, she could do that. Then she checked to see if her invisibility was still available. Her hand disappeared and reappeared successfully. She breathed deeply, she could do this. On three, one, two, three.

She pushed herself off the bed, ignoring the pain shooting up her leg. She hobbled towards the door. The guards, now alert, shot at her, but Violet put up a force field. The shots bounced off. She smiled. Too easy-

Her body was enveloped by the blue, neon light. She couldn't move, only her eyes. She saw him as he walked around her, laughing again. "Feeling feisty." His smiled vanished, as he used his zero-point energy beam to hurl her into a wall. He strolled up to her, while she lay unmoving, on the floor. He hadn't thrown her as hard as he could have. He was actually being very gracious. All he needed to do was make her fear him enough to not try anything. He heard a small grunt. Immediately he grabbed her arm, pushing her up against the opposite wall. She cried out, but Syndrome didn't relent. "That was a _very_ stupid stunt you just pulled. First, because you wouldn't have gotten very far, and second, you probably reopened your gun shot wound." He moved his hand over the large wound and pushed. As a result, Violet cried out again, closing her eyes. "Now, unless you want to be limping for quite sometime, you _will_ do as I say." When she didn't respond, he applied pressure again to her leg. She nodded her head slightly. Syndrome methodically picked her up and placed her back into the hospital bed. He immediately went back to talking with the doctor.

Violet would have been taken back, by the fact that her arch foe had just carried her bridal-style, but currently her pain downplayed all else around her. She quickly fell into a fitful sleep.

oOo

A day later Syndrome found himself standing over the girl's bed. She was still asleep, tossing and turning, restlessly. In the past three days, in which his new prisoner had been here, Syndrome had thought of little else. When he hadn't been in her cell, which was extremely nice, he thought, it was much more like a hospital room than an actual prison cell, his mind would always bring him back to her. He thought over her information file: Violet Christina Parr, age fifteen, height 5'5'', weight 125, invisibility and force fields, never broken a bone, had chicken pocks at age five. The basics, he knew just about as many facts as one could memorize about a certain person, but still he knew very little about the real Violet Parr, a.k.a Invisigirl. He looked at the child, no young woman, in front of him. She seemed so foreign to him. She might as well have been another species.

Slowly he backed away and seated himself on a nearby chair. It mattered not if he understood her. All that mattered was his plan, revenge. He allowed a smirk to unconsciously rise to his lips. The very thought of his ingenious plan made him want to laugh. The washed up old man wouldn't know what hit him. Sudden movement caught his attention. He looked over. The Incredible's girl was tossing again.

Violet slowly began regain consciousness. She didn't want to wake up. It was so warm in the blankets. She began to roll over onto her side, but couldn't. She felt tension on her right hand. She yanked her arm, suddenly awake. She forced her eyes open, though the bright iridescent light made it extremely painful. What she saw was much more painful though. She had been handcuffed to the bed.

She laid back down onto the bed, not wanting to deal with the reality that had so rudely presented itself, but a voice came through the silence, _his_. "Couldn't have you trying to escape again, now could I?"

She looked up. _He_ was sitting in a chair against the wall. Suddenly all her anger came to a head. He was simply sitting there, ever so smug, watching her. He was probably congratulating himself on his success, either that, or planning his next devious move. "You won't get away with it!" she yelled. Even in her position, lying down, she still had a presence that made him wonder if it might have frightened a lesser villain, key word being 'lesser.' "My parents will come for me. You'll be the first one they suspect."

He started laughing. He regretted it, if only a little, laughter had been unnecessary, but the irony of it all. He explained when she started yelling again. "What are you laughing about?"

"Your parents have come and gone, little girl," he said while still trying to catch his breath.

She sat up, well, as much as her restraint would allow, wanting to understand the weight of his words. "_What?_"

"You heard me. Your parents were already here, actually that's untrue. It was just you dad. I guess your mom was too _emotional_ to come." He chuckled slightly, "But being the evil genius that I am, it wasn't hard to convince them that I was in no way involved. Your dad still has his doubts, but NSA won't be darkening my doorsteps anytime soon. Get this, I was even generous enough to offer my services in helping to look for you. Of course _Mr. Incredible_ declined, but it's the thought that counts, right."

She collapsed back against the mattress, not wanting to have to look at his overconfident face. She couldn't believe it. They'd already suspected Syndrome, and he had thrown them off. Now they would be off looking for her in other places, false leads. The only word or emotion to describe her feelings at that moment was hopeless. "Why?" somehow, she found the courage to voice the question she had been asking herself, that is, in the little time since her kidnapping that she had been conscious.

"I was sure it was rather obvious." He stood and started walking towards her bed. Violet turned her head. She was in no mood for conversation, or more monologues. She heard his footsteps getting closer, until they ceased. He was so close now, next to the bed. She could hear his breathing, but she didn't dare look at him. Violet tried not to move. She resisted the urge to turn invisible, knowing it would only irritate her captor. 'Maybe,' she thought, 'if I remain still, he will get bored and leave.' She heard him shift his weight. He was becoming impatient, only a little longer, but Violet never seemed to have good luck, now did she.

He took a hold of her chin and slowly turned her face towards him. She couldn't hold back her tears. "Revenge, pure and simple." His words were quiet yet haunting. Violet shivered slightly. She turned her head away and tried to wipe away the tears, but the cuffs stopped her. She growled with frustration.

Syndrome started laughing again. Violet glared at him. Did he have no feelings? "Sorry, I just can't believe you keep forgetting about those things."

Violet turned away. No, he wasn't sorry. It had simply been a slip of words. He could in no way, shape, or form, be sorry.

He watched her. He could almost hear the condemning words her mind was most assuredly forming. Syndrome turned his head away, not wanting to look at her anymore. He turned his attention to the handcuffs. When the doctor suggested them as an easy way to keep her from escaping, Syndrome had almost died laughing. The thought simply tickled him. The idea of locking the girl up like some sort of injured convict awaiting trial was too priceless! Now he looked at her wrist. He could see the dried blood on the cuffs from where she had been thrashing around in her sleep. That familiar twinge of, what was it called again, oh, yes, remorse, struck him with surprising speed, he had thought the emotion had been lost through the years of "villain" work. He looked at her again. She swiftly turned her eyes away. She had been watching him. "If I take the cuffs off, will you promise not to try to run away or any other crap you might have up your sleeve?"

Violet head shot in his direction. She hadn't been mistaken. He had just offered to give her a little freedom. It was a small act of kindness, though stated in a very rude manner, but still. She stopped herself from blurting out an answer. Now that he had mentioned it, her wrist was hurting. She had obviously cut it in the night, or day, or whatever time it was, though she had no idea due to the lack of windows.

Syndrome resisted smiling. He could see the turmoil in her eyes, turmoil that he had created. Like all "heroes" she considered herself bound to a code of honor, as if all "villains" weren't. He knew that if she promised not to run away, she wouldn't. The angst was exciting, seeing it fall out before him in her eyes. He watched her nod finally, broken, and it was his doing. It was surprisingly easy too.

He nodded and began fumbling through his pockets to find the key. He growled in frustration. Where could he have put them? He reached for his pager thinking, "I'll page Mirage. She will…"

Slowly his mind reregistered that she wasn't there, that she had betrayed him, left him, and traded him in to _her_ family. How had he let himself become so dependant upon her? He was always losing something, and she had always been there, his other half. This wasn't the first time he had forgotten that she was gone forever. He cursed and grabbed for his cell phone. He'd have to call security. Maybe the doctor had it? He paced, mentally cursing the fact that cell phone use was so freaking slow inside his building. He turned around when he heard something behind him. "Did you say something?" he asked her rudely, taking his anger and frustration out on her.

"No," she said quietly, looking away.

Now intrigued and even more annoyed he pried, "Then what was it?"

She hesitated before answering, "My stomach growled."

_Eff_, she had been here for three days and he hadn't fed her, not including the IV she had been hooked up to on the first two days. How had he forgotten? "Yes, sir?" the monotone voice came through from his tiny, one of a kind cell phone.

Finally, "Yes, I need you to locate the keys to the girl's handcuffs, and when you come up bring the doctor and some food for her." He slapped the phone shut, turning away from the girl. He inwardly scolded himself. He was walking on a dangerous road. He was trying to balance keeping the Parr girl afraid of him and yet not being entirely cruel. _More like a tight rope_.

Suddenly the air seemed to say, "Thank you." No it was her. he turned around. she seemed so timid, so breakable and fragile. He shook his head. "Whatever." He turned and went to feign looking over her medical chart that was in a bin attached to the wall. Until the guards finally arrived he acted as if it took all his attention to read it, though he practically had it memorized. "Why", he asked himself, "why can't I forget about that backstabbing snake? Why can't a find a way to function?" The words ran over and over again, like a broken record, in his mind, over and over, until, click, the door opened. He flinched, awakening to the real world. The guards started at him mindlessly. "_What?_"

"Uh, well, where do you want us to set this down, sir?"

Syndrome rolled his eyes, what blithering idiots. The food, obviously, wasn't for him. "Give it to the girl," he said hoping his tone implied his frustration. The guard quickly obeyed. The other two stood waiting by the door, trying not to arouse their employer's wrath. It didn't work. "Where's the doctor?"

The guard looked to the other, hoping he would have an answer, but as he stumbled over his words, another walked in. "I'm right here. My daughter had a school function. You cleared it a while back."

"Hmmm," Syndrome mussed. He had never been good at remembering things like that. people always told him to use an organizer, but they always ended up becoming filled with notes for his inventions. Also, clearing time off had been yet another of _her_ jobs. "Did I?"

"Yes, sir, you did. I remember telling you about her school play. It's a musical, well not really, it's like a musical, but only fat Italians do it?"

"What are you talking about?" Syndrome turned around and gave him a look that said "I really couldn't care less" hoping the message came through loud and clear.

"He means an opera."

Both men turn their attention to Violet who was sitting on the edge of the bed, much like she had done yesterday, eating what the guards had brought her. "That's it, an opera. I was at my daughter's opera, school play, thing." The doctor smiled and nodded to Violet.

"Right," Syndrome said with confusion. He couldn't decide which was stranger, what the doc had said, or that Violet knew what he was talking about. The Doctor walked over to Violet. "I am going to need to re-bandage your leg." he gestured for her to move to the side slightly and pulled out a long metal extension from the bed. "Now put your leg up here and roll up you pant leg." Violet set the empty tray aside and did so, willingly. The doctor didn't actually seem so bad to her. He was kind, had a sense of humor, and had a family, but then again he was working for Syndrome, but Violet shrugged it off. It was hard to be leery of _everyone_ around you.

Violet watched as he took off the old bandages, it didn't hurt at first but as the got closer to the wound, she had to clench her teeth so as not to say anything. Slowly the bandages became more and more red. Violet finally had to look away. She wasn't very good with pain, and she wasn't all that good with blood.

The doctor noticing her discomfort tried to distract her by explaining. "You re-opened the wound, but you couldn't tell because of the pain killers. Unfortunately the pain killers also counteract the coagulation process, which is…"

"The process of blood clotting, I know." She said through her clenched teeth. She didn't mean to come off rude, but it was hard enough to deal with the pain _and_ hold on a conversation.

"You're a sophomore right?"

Vi sighed inwardly. He hadn't gotten the message. "Yeah."

"My daughter is in seventh grade." He smiled unconsciously when mentioning his daughter, she noticed.

"What opera was her school performing?"

"Oh, I don't know. It had something about gypsies and a bull fighter, everyone dies. The title was a woman's name, or something." The doctor pulled away to grab the clean bandages. Syndrome handed them to him.

"Was it Carmen?"

"Yes, I think it was." The doctor shook his head. "Are you an opera fan? You certainly know a lot about them."

"Kind of, I like history. I always wanted to see one, but it would be a little hard to take Dash and Jack…" she trailed off, her gaze shooting to Syndrome then anywhere else in the room _besides_ him. How had she let herself get so comfortable? She couldn't let herself forget that these men where killers. Cold hearted killers…

…with families. Vi hated to admit it, but they, just like her own parents, where simply trying to make a living. She wasn't as naïve as in her youth. She knew that to most of the men this was just a job. They weren't in it for vengeance or blood thirst. She realized this and hated the fact. It was much easier to hate and fight and even possibly kill men without backgrounds and pure reasons, but this knowledge would make a possible escape even harder.

Syndrome watched her. She was so foreign to him. Every time she spoke he learned something knew about her. She liked opera. She liked history. She was very learned. She didn't like blood. She had a low tolerance for pain. He would have to make a mental note of that for future reference. She was slowly becoming friendly with the doctor. He smirked. That could come in handy. Also, he knew after she had made the slip up in mentioning her family she was realizing what all super heroes must realize someday, not even the villain is entirely evil. She knew that his men, maybe not him, but his minions weren't entirely sadistic. Now the seeds of empathy had been planted. He hadn't even planned on that, but it would be a major disadvantage to her.

He turned back towards her. The doctor had just finished, and was packing up his supplies to leave, but Syndrome stopped him. "Don't forget about her wrist."

The doctor looked up. He hadn't even noticed the scrapes from the hand cuffs. He took hold of her wrist gently. Violet was quick to interject. "It's fine. No need to trouble yourself," she said quietly, pulling her hand away.

Syndrome rolled his eyes. "Don't turn down what little charity you get from me, sister." They caught eyes for a moment, but Violet looked away. His words had reminded her that she was still a prisoner and he was still her merciless captor, well, almost merciless.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own the Incredibles, and I can admit that now…

A/N: This fiction has the second most number of hits of all my stories and my other two Incredibles fictions has the least number? Yeah more than slight confusion on this! Also, recently someone commented on my Synlet drabbles and how they enjoyed that I made the pairing legal, but though a lot of my drabbles do make Violet about eighteen, I think that the age difference and legal issues make the pairing more interesting. It adds angst and also brings up issues for when it comes time to tell the parents. Ok, well just my thoughts on the matter!

**Timeline**: Syndrome's trial took one year. Then his house arrest was for four months. I'm guessing that Syndrome was eight when he attempted to become Incrediboy. So during the movie I'm saying that he was twenty-three. I'm also considering that the movie took place during spring. (They did go to a track meet) So Violet had just finished her eighth grade year and was going to be a freshman. Now a year and four months later she is into her sophomore year of high school, and she is **fifteen**, while Syndrome is **twenty-four**. I'm guessing its late August-early-September-ish. There you go, the longest background info you will ever get!

Chapter 5

One good thing: her leg was healing quickly. It had been four, monotonous days of eating, sleeping, and trying to walk without limping, which she could now do. She had gotten to know the doctor rather well. His name, or the name he had chosen to tell her, was Doctor Randal. He didn't feel inclined to give out his last name. He and his wife, Gloria, had three kids. The eldest was a girl, Meagan, in seventh grade, and two boys, Joshua and Randal Jr., in fourth and first grade. Violet had agonized over what to tell about herself and what not to tell, but come to find out the doctor already knew all he needed to. She shot him a confused look one day, when he rattled off some random fact about her.

He chuckled slightly. "One pro to working for Mr. Pine, he gets you all the background material you could want." He smiled and walked over to his bag, pulling out her medical record.

Violet eyed the plain looking file folder and asked quietly, "May I see it?"

The man began to extend his hand, but stopped. "I'll check with the boss first."

She nodded. One thing she had learned, Syndrome had to clear _everything_. It seemed as if he trusted no one else's judgment. Seriously, he had some definite security issues. Of course, she would never be the one to take it upon herself to tell him that, but _someone_ should.

As the doctor was gathering his things to leave, another thought popped into Vi's head. "Since I can walk around now, how can I like get my leg wet, you know, in the shower?"

She was seriously starting to feel pretty disgusting after that many days without a bath. There was a bathroom ajoining her little room with a shower, but because of her leg she had been unable to use it. They had left a basin and washcloth for a sponge bath instead.

The doctor thought for a moment. "You have been here," he started counting on his fingers lightly. Violet couldn't help but laugh. "Seven days, a week exactly, so I believe that would be fine, as long as you dry it properly afterwards."

A smile erupted on her face. "Thank you so much!"

"Of course. I will make sure someone brings up some towels." He turned to leave once more, but she once again thought of something else.

"I'm sorry, but do you think I could, maybe, have a hair tie?" she asked quietly. The doctor turned around. She blew her hair for effect, making him laugh.

"I'll see what I can do." He smiled at her and Vi returned the favor. After the doctor left the girl, his thoughts remained on her. She reminded him quite a lot of his own daughter. She was reserved and shy, embarrassed easily, but he knew that underneath that laid an inner strength that very few people saw and took something crucial to force it out of her enclosed self.

Not only that, but he was beginning to feel bad about the kidnapping. He was happy to do what he could for her. Of course, he knew, that he couldn't allow himself to become too attached to the girl. This was his job. It was the way he provided for his own family.

He finally reached one of the bosses many offices. This one was particularly reserved for when he transferred his schematics to actual models. The door was open and eerie blue lighting spilled into the hall. The doctor took one last breath before stepping into the room.

He looked up to see his employer bent over the larger table in the center of the room, protractor and pencil hand, as well as a pencil slid behind his ear. "Uh, sir?"

"What?" He didn't bother looking up. He was obviously in deep concentration.

"Uh, the girl, she was hoping that maybe she could have, a uhh…"

Syndrome finally looked up. "Spit it out!"

"A hair brush."

He looked at him with confusion and condemnation. "What?"

"The girl, she was wondering if she could have a hair brush." The doctor looked down at his hands, like most of Syndrome's minions, he was easily intimidated.

"Why does she want a hair brush?"

"I think it is a girl thing, sir," he said still not looking up.

"Fine, I'll get her something. You can go now." The doctor had come to pick up on those brush-off lines his employer used so often, but as he turned to leave he remembered her other request. "Another thing."

Syndrome sighed, pushing himself off the table into a standing position. "What?"

"She wanted to see her file."

"_What!"_ He shook his head. "No, she can't see her file!"

"Sir, I don't she meant any-"

"Go home. I'll take care of it." The doctor cringed, hoping he hadn't just gotten her into trouble, but obeyed.

After the doctor walked out Syndrome leaned back over and tried to resume his work, but now his concentration was broken. He was done for the day.

Now he set his mind to the new task at hand, getting things for the girl. This would also have been one of _her_ jobs. He walked down stairs to the office section of the complex. Finding the first young secretary who knew about their "guest" he asked her to follow him to a secure area. After they were outside of ear shot, he asked her, actually gave the order, for her to pick up a few staples that the girl would need. He stalked about another of his offices until she paged him.

He was slightly surprised by what she had brought two sacks full of girly crap. "I asked you to go and buy a hair brush, maybe some clothes, and you buy all this?"

She looked at him, being one of the few of his employees not intimidated. "Then you should have done it yourself." She briskly walked over handing him the bags and walked off quickly.

Syndrome scowled and made a mental note of her name, for if his company ever had to layoff some workers.

He walked quickly towards her room, cell, whatever. It didn't take long. He had prided himself on the design of his new fortress, almost all places could be accessed quickly even ones at opposite sides of the building.

He entered the room in a controlling manner, putting on his villain persona. He wanted her to know who was in charge here. He smirked when he heard a slight surprised gasp. Syndrome looked up. She had been snooping around the room, now that she had regained the ability to walk with ease. He watched her watching him, afraid, but then her expression changed to confusion as her eyes viewed the bags he was carrying.

Crap, how was he supposed to give her this without looking nice? "Here," he said harshly holding out the bags.

She came closer and took the reluctantly, still confused.

"The doc said you had wanted a hair brush," explaining in a condemning tone.

She looked at the bags then at him. She seemed to be deciding what to say next. "Big hair brush."

He narrowed his eyes at her. She now seemed to be containing laughter at her own joke. "Funny, but I sent out a secretary and she seemed to think you would need more than just a hair brush."

Violet nodded. That comment had been a bad decision on her part, but she was just unable to hold it in. She set the bags down on the table nearby. She hoped that if she ignored him he would just leave.

"The doc told me you wanted to see your file."

Violet's paused from browsing through the sacks. This hadn't been where she thought the conversation would go, actually she thought that the conversation had ended. "Yes," she said quietly.

"Why?"

She looked up at him and shrugged. "I dunno, curious, I guess." She looked back down and feigned extreme interest in a package of pink soap.

Syndrome shook his head, snickering slightly. "You may have the doctor fooled into thinking you are just a sweet little girl, but I know that you have a lot more of your parent's antics in you. Now why did you want to the file?"

Violet shuddered slightly, not liking his tone. It reminded her of the usual threatening villain tone. "Really, I just wondered what it said about me," she hesitated before adding, "wouldn't you have wanted to know?"

Syndrome nodded his head finally satisfied with her answer, but then he came up with an idea. "I see you are walking now," he said with a smirk.

She nodded, where was he going with this?

"Let's take a walk." He turned, paging two guards. Violet now thoroughly confused watched him walk to the door. He stopped when he realized she wasn't behind him. "Come on." His words were more of a command than an invitation, so Violet walked up reluctantly. He opened the door for her, but added, "Don't try anything if you ever want out of this room again."

Violet was unsure if he meant just for now or indefinitely, but the words didn't sit well either way. She walked, one step behind him, through an innumerable amount of hallways that all looked exactly alike.

Finally they reached a door. Two guards, apparently the ones he had paged were standing there. One held the door for her and Syndrome. Violet looked around, taking a quick assessment of the room. It was dimly lit, giving it a blue over tone. There were computers on two sides of the multi-sided wall. She didn't like this room. She caught eyes with the Syndrome. He smirked, she didn't like that, either.

He plopped down into a rotating chair. This plan had been entirely improve. He hadn't planned on doing this for a few more days, but it had seemed like such a good opportunity at the time. He picked up the receiver and dialed the number. It barely rang twice before he heard the voice on the other end. "Hello," the voice was male and recognizable. Syndrome tuned his computer to the right frequency.

"Hello, Mr. Incredible." Syndrome heard his own voice distorted beyond recognition. He watched the screen as the large man visibly stiffened.

"Who is this?"

"That is none of your concern." As much as Syndrome wanted to flaunt his identity and current possession he knew he had to keep this vague for it to work. Suddenly he heard something in background. He swiveled around in his chair to see one of the guards holding Violet, one hand over her mouth.

"What do you want?"

"Actually, Bob, it's more something I though you would want." Syndrome smirked, what a good comeback line. The fat man had set himself up for that one!

"What have you done to my daughter?"

He chuckled at how riled up he had gotten the superhero. "Nothing."

"So you have her?" He was frantic now.

"Yes, we do." Syndrome liked how this conversation was going.

"What do you want for her?" The man was pleading now. "Can I talk to her?"

He laughed. "Oh I don't want anything for her. I just thought you might want to know that is safe and sound, but suppose you need a little confirmation." He swiveled again, turning the phone to her. "Violet, say hello to your dad." The guard removed his hand, but she remained quiet.

Syndrome chuckled and turned back around. "Just a moment Mr. Incredible, I bet you didn't know how disagreeable your daughter could be." He raised a hand, snapping his finger. He waited, finally hearing a cry of pain.

"_Stop! Don't hurt her!"_

He laughed again. "We won't hurt her. I just wanted you to know she's doing just fine. Goodbye Mr. Incredible and, of course, all of NSA." He could hear the man's voice as he hung up the phone. He watched him just sit there for a few moments, but then he exploded, destroying the desk he had been sitting at.

Syndrome turned off the computer monitor and spun the chair around, his expression only slightly annoyed by her disobedience. The guards waited holding the girl. Her hands were behind her back. They had twisted them until she had called out. Her look was a mixture of defiance and sadness. He stood. "I'll take her back to her room."

One guard took her by the arm and handed her over to Syndrome. Violet cringed under his strong grip. He was angry, though he was hiding it very well.

The walk back was silent. Syndrome opened the door and pushed her through it roughly. "I never knew you had so much backbone." His words were an insult posing as a compliment. If the situation were different, Violet would have laughed. It reminded her of something one of Brittany's would have pulled.

"What do you want?" Her words were so quiet, she had closed back into her shell.

"What do you mean?"

"For me, what are you going to trade me for?" She couldn't look at him and instead pretended to be overly interested in her bare feet.

Syndrome laughed. "Oh, Violet, nothing. This is so much bigger than just a trade. You and your parents have _no_ idea what I really have planned for this one."

She stole one quick glance up before returning her gaze to the ground. "Why me?"

He cocked his head to the side, considering her. She was afraid, very afraid of him, but then in the office, she had been so audacious. He just couldn't ever quite wrap his mind around her personality. He watched her as she slipped her hair behind her ear, a nervous habit. She, Violet, wasn't really that bad looking of a girl, now that he think about it.

He didn't quite know how to answer question. Really he had not even known which one his men were going to kidnap, but she had been a, well, nice surprise. If it had been the mother, he would have had to put a lot more security on her, and if the boy, he would have had to been changed or something to keep him from running away. He stepped close to her, and he could see her struggling to keep from looking up at him. His words were hurtful and only partially true, but he wanted to mess with her just a little more. "Because you were the easiest." She finally looked at him. His words had done the trick. She was hurt. He could tell. He walked out, smirking, very satisfied.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own the Incredibles, and I can admit that now…

A/N2: Special thanks to auri mynonys, who thankfully pointed out how I made a pretty abrupt ending, so I am reposting it, thanks again!

A/N: Well, this story, amazingly, still has the most hits of all my fics? I don't know! It confuses me, but I'm glad you all like it so much! You guys are also pretty lucky. I really enjoy writing for this pairing, so you will still be getting pretty decent updates, unlike the rest of my fics, which I am kinda in a writer's-slump all of a sudden. I don't know, maybe its lack of discipline! Probably that one, I recently have fallen into a sort of homework-slump, lol! Also, I bet some of you are like "Why have you turned Violet into such a wimp?" but my view on it, is that this is her first time off on her own, she's younger in my fic than most of the Synlets I've read, and that's the impression I took away from the movie. She seemed, to me, to be a very strong girl, but from lack of experience and circumstances, usually let that self be hidden from the world, so it's going to take a lot to make her come out of her shell…

**Timeline**: Syndrome's trial took one year. Then his house arrest was for four months. I'm guessing that Syndrome was eight when he attempted to become Incrediboy. So during the movie I'm saying that he was twenty-three. I'm also considering that the movie took place during spring. (They did go to a track meet) So Violet had just finished her eighth grade year and was going to be a freshman. Now a year and four months later she is into her sophomore year of high school, and she is **fifteen**, while Syndrome is **twenty-four**. I'm guessing its late August-early-September-ish. There you go, the longest background info you will ever get!

Chapter 6

_She would not be intimidated by verbal abuse. She would not be intimidated by verbal abuse. She would not…_

The words were her mantra, over and over, as she stood unmoving, just the way he had left her. She tried the "mantra" and counting to ten, finally she gave up trying to calm down and let her anger give way. Numerous "inappropriate words", as labeled by her mother, flew through her mind, but she chose to verbalize only a quiet "sob." She smiled, satisfied by her slight show of emotion. The phrase itself insulted both the person it was directed towards as well as the said person's parents.

And, yes, Violet did think that Syndrome's parents quite a lot to do with the devious life of their son. Actually, Violet believed that parents were entirely responsible up until, well, _some_ age. She had never really contemplated the age in which one was actually entirely responsible for their own actions, before. Vi reached back in her memory and tired to recall when she had started listening to her parents, but actually going against what they would say and suggest. Actually, it wasn't that long ago, late last year perhaps.

Age fifteen, the person was now responsible for his or her actions. That was her current age, and it was strange for her to realize that she was now in control of her actions and loyalties. Now, in her sophomore year of high school, parents were hardly involved in school. The weight was slowly shifting to her own shoulders. She suddenly felt gravity pulling a little stronger on her and mumbled a sarcastic and inaudible "fantastic" to herself.

She huffed, hating her own self-contained personality. Lucky for her, or unluckily however you looked at it, Violet was born with the uncanny ability to understand human nature. Most of the time she loved this talent, she was the one her friends counted on when they needed someone to talk to, when they need advice, but now, she hated the fact that she knew why _he_ was the way _he_ was, and worse, she felt compassion for _him_. He was just a hurt little boy, no matter how many layers of anger he tried to hide it behind, down at the core.

Eff him, and eff her inborn empathy.

Also, she couldn't quite blame him for snapping at her. She kind of asked for it. Talking to Syndrome was a little like talking to her mom, sarcastic comments always popping into her head. Now all she had to do was filter out anything that would set him off. That was the hard part.

_Everything_ set him off.

Slowly, she was realizing her fear was fading, and it was being replaced by defiance, though most hidden deep beneath submission. She had never liked confrontation. Her motto: it is easier to let something go then to make it into a big deal with a lot of unnecessary complications. It didn't rhyme and wasn't really all that wise, but it was the words with which she lived her life. For some reason her audacious self always seemed to take a back seat to her logical and sensible self.

One good thing, her parents now knew she was safe. She walked over to the table, wanting to straighten up. Unlike the common teen, Vi didn't like her room messy. It irritated her, and she always liked to keep it tidy. Of course she didn't really mind dust, so it wasn't immaculate by any means. It only put on the _appearance_ of being clean…

Violet shook her head. There were too many analogies that could be drawn from that phrase, and she just couldn't go down that road tonight. She had to get her mind on something else. She would catalog the things he had given to her.

She was happily surprised by what she found: two towels, two washcloths, toothbrush, tooth paste, hairbrush, deodorant, shampoo and conditioner (it really smelled good), a package of hair ties, a light blue head band, two fitted tees, a pair of jeans, and a bar of pink soap. Vi laughed at the pink soap. Instantly she had the urge to through a sarcastic comment at Syndrome the next time she saw him.

On that happy note, she grabbed one of the towels and the other shower things, and headed to the bathroom to take a long, hot shower before bed.

oOo

The next day, Syndrome walked to the prisoner's room with heavy steps. It had been a hard morning, stemming mostly from his lack of sleep. At first he had slept well, comforted by the fact that he had absolutely and utterly broken the girl, but then the dreams, more like night mares, had come, as did total wakefulness. When the guard rapped on his door at 6:30 exactly, Syndrome had growled back and rolled out of bed.

The kid better be up, he thought as he reached Vi's door. He pounded on the door suddenly, even startling his trained guards. Even the small scream on the other side of the door, didn't bring satisfaction.

The guard to his left opened the door. He walked in, not bothering to cover up his irritation at the world in general. She was sitting on the bed, awake thankfully, wearing jeans and a tee-shirt. A headband revealed her whole face. Violet looked away quickly. "Doc said you can walk just fine now, so we are going to run some tests." He glanced up quickly from her medical papers he had been looking over to see as she physically stiffened. "The doctor's already down there, come on."

He walked briskly to the door, but stopped when the guard tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, agitated. "What?"

"The girl, sir," the guard said gesturing to Violet, who was still sitting on the bed. Syndrome sighed and walked over to her.

"Get up, don't waste my time." He watched as she lowered her eyes and shook her head. He put a hand to his forehead and the other to his waist. He growled, pacing, but finally walked over to her bed, placing his hands on either side of her. His voice was low, threatening. "I really don't feel like having my guards beat a minor today, but if you test me I will." He paused, knowing he was invading her personal space. "Your choice."

He stood and crossed his arms over his chest. He waited for a few moments like this. Finally, he raised a hand and signaled to the guard, but her movement caught his eye. She slid off the bed and stood. Syndrome walked out and listened to confirm that she had followed, which she had.

They walked liked a processional, Syndrome in front and the guards bringing up the rear, Violet sandwiched in the middle. There was only the sound of their footsteps, Syndromes large, commanding movements, the guard's identical, subconscious steps, and Violet slightly off any tempo. She struggled to breath without tears breaking through. She didn't want any of this to be real. She wanted to go to sleep and wake up in _her_ bed in _her_ home.

Even dealing with Brittany was better than this.

Finally, Syndrome came to a stop in front of a glass paneled room, though Vi knew him well enough to know it was securely reinforced. He hit the keypad as if the code was permanetly etched into his memory. He held the door open and motioned for her to enter.

Violet couldn't decide if the gesture had been in mock or sincerity, but she brushed the question off. She had many more pressing thought to deal with, like the fact that she was in a very unnerving room. The only word that came to mind was "laboratory" and she didn't particularly like that definition.

Syndrome noticed her discomfort, everyone did. Maybe, if he had gotten more sleep, he would have put her fears to rest, but he wasn't feeling all that compassionate at the moment. Let her be afraid, he thought.

Once again, silence descended on the room, except this time, electronic sounds filled the air. The doctor stepped up, though timidly. "We are going to test the strength of your powers." He rambled on and gently ushered Violet into another room, sunken slightly and one side was also glass plated.

Syndrome stood back arms crossed, watching. The doctor explained what they wanted Violet to do, and exited, leaving her alone in the room. It was more than slightly unnerving. Everyone could see her, and was watching. They wanted her to put up a force field on their signal and hold it up for as long as she could. She could minimize it, but she just couldn't let it dissipate.

The doctor sat himself in front of one of the many computer screens and spoke into the intercom, giving her the signal, but she didn't move. Doctor Randal spoke into the intercom again, but Syndrome took it from his hands.

"Cut the crap, _Violet_."

It worked. She immediately put up a force field, giving the room a slightly purple overlay. Syndrome watched, smirking at her obedience. This was all too easy.

oOo

All his hypothesizes had been correct, except one: she lasted longer than he had predicted, a lot longer.

Syndrome, since his imprisonment, had taken up a new hobby, the study of Supers and their powers. Supers in general had always fascinated him, but now he learned about what _made _them that way.

In general, superpowers were passed on through genetics, though the gene didn't always present itself and could skip generations. The gene itself didn't diminish, he had learned, when it was diluted, i.e. supers and non-supers marrying.

He had also classified most superpowers into two categories: strength generated and mind generated. Violet Parr, he observed, had both. Her invisibility was under strength where as her force fields were created by her mind.

Syndrome wanted to see how durable her force fields were and under what kind of circumstance. He tested them under increased temperature and pressure, then decreasing temperature. He also tested what projectiles she could with stand.

Then, they tested her invisibility under the same circumstances as well. She was much stronger than he had first thought. They had just taken her out of the room. The doctor had brought her a small paper cup of water. Syndrome considered her. He had studied her previous fighting, and it in no way indicated she would have lasted this long. Perhaps, he thought, she was fueled by defiance. He looked up at her again only to see her glaring at him, though immediately she averted her eyes.

Yes, it was definitely defiance…

And somehow it hurt?

Syndrome jerked his head, unsure, but brushed it off, like he did everything. Stupid girl messing with his head like this, first she was timid the next she was giving him the evil eye. He thought about it a bit more and wondered if she hated him.

_Of course_, she hated him! He had tried to kill her family, kidnap her little brother, and now kidnapped her. She _had_ to hate him. He watched her, cocking his head to the side. She was different. He hardly knew anything about her, besides the file. That thought reminded him, he had asked one of the guards to ascertain the photograph she had thrown out her window that night.

It was of a boy, a good looking boy. Syndrome's curious nature had taken over. He had never asked her about it, but he had wanted to. A boy would have been the last thing he would have guessed the girl to have a picture of, none the less throwing it out her window.

It wasn't like she was ugly. She was more than decent looking, though he would never admit it, but she had just never struck him as the type to have a boyfriend. The thought had just never occurred to him.

The doctor tapped him on the shoulder, waking him from his thoughts. "If there isn't anything else, sir, we're done."

"No, nothing except a blood sample…" Syndrome said the words casually, watching for her reaction. She stiffened eyes wide. "Kidding, I heard you weren't very fond of needles." She didn't acknowledge an answer, instead looking away. He turned to the doctor. "Have the final analysis on my desk tomorrow. I'll take the girl back to her room."

He walked to the door, not bothering with taking hold of her. She knew better than to try to run away and, on the off chance that she did try something, the young super wouldn't get very far.

They walked to her room, Violet three steps behind him, both in thought. When they reached the door, once again, he opened it for her. She walked through awkwardly. Syndrome following after. They stood, staring at one another, until Violet turned away. "What was that all about?"

He shrugged. "What can I say, Supers are my hobby."

She nodded. "How did I do?"

Syndrome snickered. "You're a curious little snipe, but if you really want to know you lasted a lot longer than I would have given you."

Violet turned back to him, though not looking at him, obviously satisfied with herself. She sighed, "Good."

"Now, it's my turn."

She looked at him. "What?"

Syndrome grabbed the file folder on the desk. "Now, I get to ask you a question." He pulled out the picture and waved. "Who's the guy?"

Her expression changed from one of confusion to rage in about point five seconds. "How did you get that?"

He smirked. "You remember those 'exterminators'? Well, they were actually surveillance installers, kid. So, who is he and why were you so pissed at him, well, are, if you're still pissed?"

"That is none of you're business," she answered, still enraged at the invasion of privacy. Suddenly she realized what consequences this might have for Tony, someone she still cared about as a friend, even if she was still a little angry. "Don't you dare bring him into this."

He laughed outright. "Don't give me that. If I really wanted to know who he was, I'd leave it up to my capable underlings." He shrugged pacing. "I just thought there might be an interesting story explaining why you were up at three in the morning throwing this picture out the window. Violet's first brush with love perhaps," he said in a mocking tone.

She looked down. Yes, it had been her first "brush with love." Though now, maybe, she wasn't so sure. She had liked and deeply cared, still cared, about him, but had it been love, or had it been an insecure girl wanting acceptance in the first person to offer it? Violet didn't even know anymore. All she knew was that she hated _him_. So she decided for the first time, to actually voice her opinion.

"_I hate you." _

It was a whisper, but it was fierce and harsh, meant to inflict a biting pain.

Whether Syndrome realized it, the comment had done its job well. he was almost compelled to take a step back. Then, his villainous auto-pilot took over.

"Ok," he nodded. "I've been _more_ than nice to you." He stepped closer her, too close. "Let's think about what I _could _have done. I could have beaten you senseless. I could have starved you. I could have hurt your family. I could have hurt him," he said gesturing back to the picture. "But I haven't." Violet crossed her arms, refusing to look at him, but Syndrome decided that he had had enough of that, as well. He took hold of her arm, pulling her towards him. He took hold of her chin forcing her eyes to meet his own. "I've kept you well fed, in a more than decent room, even done a little shopping for you." He tightened his grip on, causing her to cry out slightly. "So I suggest you start acting a little more appreciative." He gave her a jerk, sending her backwards until the bed stopped her from falling down entirely. Syndrome smirked and turned on his heel, leaving her alone to consider his words.

oOo

"Please," he said through clenched teeth.

"Hmmm, no."

"I'll give you a raise."

"And, no raise is worth doing _that_."

Syndrome hated this secretary. She had been the one to go shopping for the Parr girl, he had stopped calling her anything, well anything that didn't include expletives, besides "the girl" ever since their last chat.

Once again, he wished he didn't have to turn to _this _secretary, but his usual escort was out sick and all the other secretaries were old, and he was not calling a service. He wasn't that desperate. "Listen," he peered over her shoulder to the name plate on her desk, Angela Sanderson. "Miss Sanderson, I need an escort to some _thing_ with some big wigs, no big deal."

"Yes, it is a big deal, and for your information the 'thing with some big wigs' is an opera with two possible clients." She crossed her arms.

"How do you know what it is?"

"Because, I'm the one who wrote the memo about it. Do you even read those things?" Syndrome had recently resorted to having his secretaries turn all of his important papers into half a page of the need-to-knows. It was in bulleted form: where, when, why, what to wear, and with who.

He shrugged. "Enough."

"Obviously not." She turned around and grabbed her nail file. "And no amount of money will make me even consider being you escort."

"You dislike me _that _much?" Syndrome asked, exasperated. This had not been his week for women.

"No, you aren't that bad, but I don't want to be in the papers. I also do _not_ want a mob of deranged fan girls attacking me. I still think they poisoned Jamie." Jaime was his usual escort who was out with an odd flu bug.

Angela was right. Being a multimillionaire who did community service, though most of it was for selfish reasons, he did have quite a following. "Then what am I supposed to do? I can't show up without a date."

She considered for a moment. Then, she smirked. "Take the girl."

"_What?"_

"You said she was into opera, and, like you said, you can't show up without a date." She was almost laughing now.

Syndrome shook his head, turned on his heel to stalk out, but stopped abruptly. "Oh and by the way, consider all you time off with pay no longer existent." He didn't bother turning to see her angered expression, but he certainly did _hear_ her foot collide with a nearby trashcan. He walked to his office quickly, finally realizing a service was his only option.

He sat in his self-designed swivel chair. Syndrome picked up the phone and hesitantly dialed, waiting through that annoying ringing tone. Finally, after minutes of automated voices and elevator-esque music, a human voice picked up. "Hello, Escort Service, this is Trisha, how may I help you."

"I…"

He hesitated, and before he realized it the words came out. "Wrong number." He hung up the phone, mentally kicking himself.

He stood and walked through the door, trying to deter himself.

He walked down the halls and to _her_ room.

He didn't hesitate opening the door, even to knock.

Syndrome didn't smirk when he noticed that he had frightened her, just watched. He watched as she composed herself. She was obviously wondering what he could possibly want.

She had no idea.

They stood in silence for few moments, a nervous wave cascading over him. Finally he spoke. "I need an escort to some social crap for work, you are my last resort."

Violet gaped at him. "What?"

"You heard me. I need an escort and there's no one else I can turn to."

Still, she gaped at him. Was he for real? She was his prisoner. Usually Captors don't ask their prisoners…

Wait, was he talking about him and her going on a _date_?

Syndrome noted the change in her facial expression and knew exactly what she was thinking. "Not like _that_. It a thing for work, an opera. If I remember correctly you are some sort of opera expert. Maybe we can work out some sort of retribution if you help me out."

Her head shot to the side. "Let me go, and I would be more than willing to help out."

He gave her a sarcastic look. "Ha, funny. Do you actually think that I would trade _you_, for a favor? Not gonna happen, sister. Anything else you can think of that might make you consider helping me?"

She shook her head. "All I want is to go home."

Syndrome sighed, his headache quickly coming back. "Listen, you're doing this whether you want to or not. I'm offering you something in return, but if you aren't game-"

"Fine," she said, eyes downcast, "I want to get out of this room. It's stuffy and boring."

He shrugged. "Deal." He turned to walk out, but her voice made him stop, though he didn't turn around.

"Aren't there some details you should tell me?"

Syndrome shrugged again. "Probably." He stalked out, ignoring her rather pertinent question.

She scowled. Why did he always leave so abruptly? She turned back to what she was doing before he so rudely interrupted: laying bed, pretending everything was alright.

Violet sat up, terribly annoyed, when the door swung open again, but was surprised to find not Syndrome, but some woman she had never seen before.

"So you're the Parr girl."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own the Incredibles, and I can admit that now…

A/N: Is this story getting too… I dunno, unrealistic? Please be honest. I don't want to put our fav pairing through something where I'm sure even they would be thinking, "This would _so_ never happen!" Be honest! Thanks for your patience. School's out and my life has taken some sharp turns this semester. When I started this story, and all my other's matter-of-fact, I had never had a boyfriend, or really understood how it felt to be in love, but now I do, lol. I don't want to come off as a drama queen. All I'm trying to say is that I hope that my own experiences can help me make this story more realistic. Thank you for all the grand reviews! You all keep me going!

**Timeline**: Syndrome's trial took one year. Then his house arrest was for four months. I'm guessing that Syndrome was eight when he attempted to become Incrediboy. So during the movie I'm saying that he was twenty-three. I'm also considering that the movie took place during spring. (They did go to a track meet) So Violet had just finished her eighth grade year and was going to be a freshman. Now a year and four months later she is into her sophomore year of high school, and she is **fifteen**, while Syndrome is **twenty-four**. I'm guessing its late August-early-September-ish. There you go, the longest background info you will ever get!

Chapter 7

"_It was there that I realized,_

_That forever was in your eyes,_

_The moment I saw you cry."_

_-Cry by Mandy Moor_

"So, you're the Parr girl."

Violet stared at the tall, beautiful woman standing before her. "Who are you?"

She laughed and pointed to herself coyly. "_I_ am Buddy's secretary, Angela."

Violet nodded. "What are you doing here?" Her words were sincere, simply curious.

The woman knew that. "Well, I assume he asked you." She waited for Violet to nod before continuing. "Now, I know you are going to need someone to get you ready for the opera. I _was _the one who got you all that stuff in the first place."

"You did that?"

"Mhm," she nodded, self assured. "Alright, now the first thing you'll need is a dress." She pulled a measuring tape, pad of paper, and pencil out of her overly large handbag. She gestured for Violet to come over.

Violet knew the drill, having been in a few of her school's plays. She sincerely hoped that this dress would be prettier than her past costumes. The silence was awkward. Vi hated the all too frequent awkward silences. She and Tony knew too much of awkward silences. He would often whistle when they stopped talking, she assumed, to make any noise just to fill the void. She couldn't whistle. So she made small talk, often times awkward small talk. Not much better, but still it was an improvement. "So, what's your name?"

"Angela."

Violet nodded. Conversation would be harder to start than she had thought. After another agonizingly awkward silence another question came to her. "Why didn't he ask you?"

She didn't stop taking measurements, only mumbled, pencil in her mouth, "He did."

Violet nodded casually, but stopped. "What? Then why aren't _you_ going with him?"

She laughed loudly; luckily she had just slid the pencil behind her ear. "Because I know what kind of date he would be."

Scratch everything else Violet had previously thought: small talk sucks.

Angela kept laughing, but Violet just stared at her, agape. Suddenly, the woman realized the implications of her words, and tried to mend the already horrendous situation. "Well, you know what I mean."

No, I have _no_ idea what you mean, she thought.

"All that paparazzi, and well I have a boyfriend who wouldn't like it." Angela gave up and went back to taking measurements. Finally she finished, stepping away to take a final assessment of the girl. She cocked her head to the side when she noticed something amiss. "You have purple eyes."

Vi looked up, blinking.

"Violet, it's a good name for you." Angela turned and left, now totally engrossed in her next project, finding a dress for Violet Parr.

This was going to be more difficult than she had previously thought.

The girl had purple eyes. Seriously, who has purple eyes? What goes with purple eyes?" The only thing she could think of was _purple_, but with Syndrome's _blue_ eyes and _red _hair that really wouldn't work out well.

She needed to just _watch _her. Maybe then she could decide on a correct color. This was something Angela not only excelled at but also enjoyed. She had wanted to be a designer, well that and a weather girl and a super model, but, of course, she learned that business was much more profitable, as was manipulating rich businessmen, but this, _this_, was familiar. She could do this.

Angela walked Syndrome's nearest office, mentally patting herself on the back for hacking into the system and getting the floor plans, sat herself in his swivel chair…

And that's where he found her an hour later.

At first, he didn't see her. He was reading some sort of paper, probably one she had typed up, when he heard the swivel chair squeak. He looked up, startled.

"_What are you doing?_"

Angela turned around and cocked her head to the side. "When did you come in?"

"Just a few sec- no. What are _you_ doing in here and when did _you_ come in?"

She nonchalantly looked at her watch and her eyes widened. "Wow, I have been in here for a long time."

Syndrome sighed, trying to repel the urge to destroy something. "How did you get in here, no wait, what are you doing in here? Tell me _that_."

She leaned back in the chair and turned around fully facing him, but she didn't look at him. Her face was towards the ceiling, musing. "Well, I just can't decide what color is best for her. At first I thought a soft yellow perhaps, but then, no, I knew it just wouldn't match her skin tone-"

He stuttered, too many thoughts fighting to be heard, but finally decided on a firm, "What the eff is going on?"

Angela smirked, finally understanding that wittle Buddy was rather lost. "Someone has to get the girl a dress."

"Who- _no!_"

It finally hit.

Violet…

_Angela and_ Violet…

Together…

Bad plan…

"Over my dead body are you meeting her."

The secretary waved him off and swiveled back to the computer screen. "Already been done. I have her measurements too." She held up a sheet of paper shook it, feeling as a toreador, bating the bull. It was dangerous, but not impossible.

The bull took the bait. He hurried up to her, in a mad rage, and turned the chair around. For a second, Angela was scared, but then she realized who she was dealing with, Buddy Pine. Her eyes sharpened. "What? Are you afraid to let anyone see your lil girlfriend?"

"Funny. Now I want to know everything that went on in that room."

Angela shrugged, and kneed Buddy where no man should be kneed. "Fine." She stood and pushed Syndrome's shoulder, gently forcing him back into the chair, he didn't fight. He was a tad occupied, and in not much condition to fight. She told him exactly what Violet and she talked about. She told him which guards she had to flirt with to be let through doors she wasn't cleared to pass through, and which guards were too incompetent to realize that she had stolen their key. When she finished she paused, hand on her chin, staring at him. "Red."

"What?" he asked.

"Her dress should be red."

oOo

"Vell, hello, dahling. Vhat brings you here?"

"Hey Edna." Angela stooped down from her supermodel-worthy height of 5'9 to give the short woman a hug. She had been under Miss Mode's tutelage when she had dabbled in fashion. "I'm here for a favor."

Edna narrowed her eyes, liking the sound of that. "Vhat kind of challenge?"

"My employer is taking a mutual friend of ours to an opera, and she needs a dress."

Edna smiled. "Vhat vere you thinking of for zhis dress, dahling?"

"Well, I think it should be red, fitted, but feminine and flow-y." She paused to look at her mentor. The woman nodded. "It should be complimentary, but modest. I don't think she wants to stand out, and she is also rather shy."

"Do zou have zhe measurements, dahling?" she said without looking at Angela. She was already off in another world, one filled with fabric and needles.

"Of course." She handed the piece of paper to the small woman.

Edna scanned it, thinking, but stopped. She cocked her head to the side. "Now, vho is zhis _friend_? Vould I know her?"

Angela shook her head. "No, I don't think you would. She keeps to herself, and I haven't known her for very long." At least two-thirds of the answer was true.

She shrugged. "Vell, dahling, I shall have zhis done in two days." She brushed the young woman out, quickly. She blamed in on her eagerness to start working, but that was not the only reason.

Edna hustled to her work room, and over to her computer. She scanned her files, and smirked when she found it. She knew she had seen those measurements before.

oOo

The next day Syndrome woke up with purpose. He had two goals for today besides his usual business work, both pertaining to the girl. The first was to try on his suit, and have it approved by Angela.

How he loathed that woman.

And the second was to make another call to the Parr residence.

He put off both task until after lunch. Angela had been out getting the girl's dress. He paged her as soon as one of his guards notified him to her return. He quickly changed and modeled the suit, which she approved, after much staring and tugging.

Irritating, perfectionist-ic woman, how he hated her.

Now, to the much more enjoyable part of his day: messing with his arch foe. He took two guards with him, and walked to the girl's room. He began to open the door, but stopped and knocked.

"Come in."

He did. She looked up at him, and pushed herself off the bed where she had been sitting. "Do you want to talk to your dad?"

She looked surprised. "What do you mean?"

"What I said. People, ya know, usually mean what comes out of theirs mouths." He could see her choosing between yelling at him or crying.

She chose to cry.

He watched as a silent tear slid down her cheek and onto her lip.

He felt pity.

"I was going to call and antagonize your father, but I thought you might want to say something to him. So, you can either come and speak to him willingly, to prove you are still alive and well, or you can be forced to say something, like last time. It's up to you, Violet."

She nodded, wiping away the tear, mad at herself for her own weakness, and whispered. "I'll talk to him."

"Ok then."

She followed him down the now, slightly familiar hallway and into the blue-lit computer room. She stopped near the doorway, but Syndrome beckoned her to follow him as him made his way to the swivel chair.

The villain noted his prisoner's docile behavior as he made the phone call; something was off, but what…

"Hello."

Well, there was not time to think about that now. He spoke into the receiver his voice properly concealed and distorted. "Mr. Incredible, so good to speak to you again."

"My daughter, tell me about my daughter."

He chuckled, and the sound was so distorted that it almost startled himself. He heard the girl gasped to the left of him. "Not this time Mr. Parr. Before we can continue this discussion you are going to have to disconnect your phone from the cords connecting it to NSA. Tell your little friend Rick Dicker bye-bye."

He watched as the large man hesitantly pulled the cord out the phone, he checked his own computer screen to ensure that NSA was no longer listening to their phone calls. "There, I did it."

"Very good, Bob. I'm feeling generous today so I'm going to put your daughter on the line." He tossed the cordless phone to Violet who, after juggling it was finally able to take a solid hold on it.

"Hi, daddy." Her voice was frail and weak. It alluded to her fragility that she had been hiding, that she had been hiding _well_.

"Violet, honey, are you alright? Have they hurt you?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine. How's mom and Dash and Jack-Jack?" Syndrome noticed that a tear slid down her cheek. He felt compelled…

"They're fine, worried about you."

Syndrome snapped, startling her. She wasn't ready when he grabbed the phone. "Don't worry, Mr. Parr. We will take good care of lil Violet." He hung up the phone abruptly. He would have watched the man's reaction, but he turned it off immediately, after noticing the girl watching it hungrily.

He turned around to see her still watching the screen. Suddenly her gaze switched to him, and they locked eyes.

Syndrome looked down and stalked forward, grabbing her arm and leading her to the door. "I'll take her back myself," he said as passed the guard who held the door for him.

Their walk, well brisk walk, wasn't silent this time. Syndrome listened to the girl struggle not to cry the whole way. He hurried to open the door. He was out of his comfort zone, and the sooner he was back in it the better. The door finally opened, and he practically ran through, dragging her with him. When he finally let her go, Violet hurried over the table to retrieve a towel. She had no Kleenexes and was in desperate need to blow her nose and wipe away tears that where ready to fall, but she didn't quite make it.

Her bare foot caught on the separation between two tiles and fell. Violet was used to falling, part of her lack of coordination outside of super-work. She was used to the laughter that followed. She had also learned that flailing around trying to prevent oneself from falling only increased the laughter and embarrassment. It was easier to just let oneself fall and enjoy the few seconds of weightless-ness…

That made it all the easier for Syndrome to catch her.

He grabbed her around the waist and at a slight, sideways angle. Whilst falling she had began to turn, letting her right leg turn her body counterclockwise. Syndrome pulled her up and against himself.

Violet blinked her eyes, realizing she wasn't on the floor. Her head was against her arch foes shoulder and her arms resting on his shoulders. If not for his surprisingly gentle, but firm hold on her, she would have pulled away instantly.

But no, she kept her head rested on his shoulder. She could feel the texture of his dress shirt beneath her hands. IT was a maroon shirt with a well coordinated tie. Vi was sure he hadn't come up with the ensemble himself.

She breathed in, content, and was surprised to find he smelled… nice.

Violet backed away suddenly. She watched as the villain blinked. He looked as if he hadn't realized she was out of his arms until just then. She willed herself to stand still, but her hands were shaking, and her breath was uneven. She wanted to go home. She watched him become blurrier, as he turned around awkwardly and then face her again.

He walked up and with an unsure hand he brushed away a tear from her cheek.

Syndrome didn't know what he was doing.

Not true, he knew what he was doing. He just didn't know what was controlling it, or how he was doing it. It was as if he was watching himself from a distance.

He watched himself as he took his other arm and placed it on the girl's waist, drawing her closer, his hand still on her cheek. He watched as his hand slid to her jaw, bringing her wide-eyed face closer.

He watched as he brought his face to her wide-eyed own.

He whispered in her ear, "I'm sorry."

Then snap. He wasn't watching anymore. He pushed her away and turned and stalked from the room.

What the _eff_ had he been thinking?

oOo

"You look _hot_." Angela smiled at the fact that it was color that really set it off. She had just placed the last bobby pin in the fancy up-do.

Violet smiled shyly; there was no mirror in her room.

"Oh yeah!" Angela jumped and ran over to her bag from which she produced a pair of matching pumps. She handed them over to Violet who hesitantly slipped them on her feet, a perfect fit, as was the dress.

Vi stood, testing her weight. She had only tried on her mom's high-heeled shoes, but now it was different. They were hers. She walked around a little, assuming a womanly step. Angela smirked, knowing her employer would be unable to ignore the changes the clothes had brought about. It made Violet look older and mature, not like the girl she usually appeared to be.

Violet smoothed a wrinkle from the gorgeous gown. "It's a perfect fit. Nothing has ever felt like this, well, besides my super-suit-" She dropped off, not wanting to discuss super-related issues. She tried to change the subject. "Did you make it?"

"No, but I did used to be in the designer business. I had my mentor make it, Edna Mode. She owed me one." Angela laughed at her own joke, but stopped short when she saw the look on Violet's face. "Have you heard of her?"

"Um, yeah," Vi looked away, unsure of how to get herself out of this predicament.

Then it all clicked. "She made you're suit. Am I right?"

Violet didn't know how else to answer besides a slight nod.

Angela shrugged it off. "Yeah, she does a lot of super hero work. She even made a suit for Syndrome once." They continued to make small talk, until her pager went off. "Well, I have to go. You look gorgeous."

Angela walked out casually, but as soon as the door shut, she slipped off her own high heels and broke into a run. She ran to Syndrome's nearest office, but he wasn't in there. She picked up a phone, and quickly dialed his head of security. "I need you to page Mr. Pine. It's a matter of utmost importance."

She waited as the man did as he was told, but he came back saying, "I'm sorry it appears he has just left the building, and left a message saying not to be disturbed while he was out."

"No, listen. Someone _knows_ about his little guest!"

oOo

The limousine was quite, and the air between them was stiff and awkward. He hadn't spoken to her since the last phone call.

He had had a guard escort her to the limo. He hadn't bothered getting out, but now he wished he had. Outside he could have seen her better than in the dimly lit limousine.

She was beautiful.

No matter how much he wanted to deny it he couldn't, and it was futility to even try.

The drive to opera house wasn't a long one. When the car parked he got out, as the driver opened the door for him, and motioned the driver back inside.

Syndrome, himself, walked around, opened the door, and extended a hand to help Violet out of the car. She took it hesitantly, and he guided them up the steps and to the door. He watched her through his peripheral vision. She looked as if there was something she wanted to say, but didn't know how to voice it. He withheld a smirk.

Finally, she spoke. "W- What," she stuttered, "am I supposed to call you?"

He smiled at her and chuckled. "I hadn't thought about that."

Vi considered him for a moment. His laughter was different. It wasn't like the times she had heard it before. It lacked sinister-ness. It was very sincere, and forced her mouth into a smile. "So what _am_ I supposed to call you?"

"Yeah, Syndrome probably wouldn't work." He turned to her again as she laughed. It was pure and beautiful. He liked making her laugh. He naturally wanted people's attention, and now he wanted hers, but it was stronger.

He _craved_ it. "Call me Buddy."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Incredibles, and I can admit that now…

**A/N:** Oh yeah, and if no one else has noticed, I refer to our fav villain as Buddy when he's being good and Syndrome when he's being bad, or, well, I try to. So, in this chapter you will notice not quite half way through he shifts from Buddy to Syndrome.

Insert evil snicker here

ALSO, I MADE THIS AUTHORS NOTE MONTHS AGO, A MORE RECENT ONE IS AT THE BOTTOM!!

**Timeline**: Syndrome's trial took one year. Then his house arrest was for four months. I'm guessing that Syndrome was eight when he attempted to become Incrediboy. So during the movie I'm saying that he was twenty-three. I'm also considering that the movie took place during spring. (They did go to a track meet) So Violet had just finished her eighth grade year and was going to be a freshman. Now a year and four months later she is into her sophomore year of high school, and she is **fifteen**, while Syndrome is **twenty-four**. I'm guessing its late August-early-September-ish. There you go, the longest background info you will ever get!!

Chapter 8

Buddy hated these social functions. Ignoring the advice from his rather expensive image consultants, he didn't fake a smile and small talk. When someone noticed him, he would raise a single hand, and barely nod his head, the body language equivalent of "I acknowledge you", and then proceeded without another thought. Tonight, though, he didn't even manage_ that_.

He was too fixated on his escort to acknowledge anyone.

Naturally Buddy was a quiet observer. He liked to watch and record the little nuances of life that we all knew but rarely pondered, too caught up with our own day to day lives. He was also an entertainer, loving to share his humorous observations. He liked the sound of his own voice, and the laughter that inevitably followed. He had tried his hand at being a stand up comedian a few years ago when he had been really desperate for cash. If the hero/villain bit fell through (again) he knew he would always have that to fall back on.

_Oh, what a comforting thought…_

Something he wasn't a natural at was giving someone else the time of day. Actually, he hardly gave _anyone_ the time of day, unless they had something to offer him, ranging from laughter to the more tangible, i.e. cash.

So, naturally, it baffled him how this girl managed to offer a warm, but not upstaging, smile to all those who looked their way.

oOo

Angela paced as the cell phone against her ear kept ringing. Even the upbeat Japanese drum ring-back tone couldn't soothe her nerves. She was frantic, which, though not the first, was an unusual sight to the rest of the SyndroCorp staff. They were used to the in-control-Angela. The Angela that made everyone laugh and had an uncanny control over the boss. Right now, though she was about to pace a hole right through the cold, shiny, linoleum floor…

_Crack-_

… Or break the heel of her shoe, and suddenly Angela was five inches shorter.

"EFF!" She promptly drew back her hand, and with it her cell phone, but stopped herself right before launching it into space. She clenched her other fist on the _other_ cellular device she had been holding: Syndrome's phone, which she had found, left in his office, turned off: the effing idiot. Angela chucked the phone with all of her might into the wall, but was more than dismayed to see that the red haired fairy had made his personal phone practically indestructible. She walked over to the impertinent piece of technology, in an un-lady-like limp, due to the broken heel. She knelt down, slipped off her un-maimed shoe and began smashing the phone to smithereens when she finally heard a voice on the other line of her own cellular device.

"Hello, dahlings. Zhis is Edna Mode, and if you haf zhis number it means eizher you are family or you are a very very very close friend. So leave a message. If I don't call you back, it probably means ve aren't speaking. Vell- Oh yes…"

The woman chuckled, and this did nothing to settle Angela's nerves. "If zhis is Angela, thank you for zhe challenge, and of course, you're secret is safe vith me, dahling. Buh bye."

"Thanks E, that makes me feel _all_ better."

Angela closed her trendy flip phone, sighing. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She stomped her leg on her now shorter side. Finally, after a few more minutes of tantrum-throwing she proceed to straighten her clothes and accept the fact that she had done all she could. Contrary to popular belief, she did care for Buddy, in a somewhat sisterly manner. He really had no one else. Even more so since Mirage's dissent, but Angela had a clairvoyance about her. She could see it in his eyes when the girl was around, well, when he wasn't being a manical-vengence-obsessed-butt-wipe. He cared for her, enough said. She nodded, and said to herself, "Well, the jig might be up. I hope you make it count, Buddy."

She then proceeded to walk barefoot to the front desk, clocking out two and a half hours later than she expected and head off on a date with her long time boyfriend, putting all her worries about SyndroCorp and Violet Parr to the back of her mind.

When she arrived at the restaurant, still hauling her battle scared shoes, her boyfriend asked her how work had been. She hesitated only for a second. She always pondered what her clean cut boyfriend would say if she told him what really went on at her job. Angela smiled and shrugged. "Boring as ever."

oOo

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Parr."

"And you, Mr. Hiro." Syndrome watched as Violet shook hands with the other two businessmen, her grip, firm but delicate. He had debated inwardly on what to call her, wondering if news that a 'Violet Parr' had been at the opera house, would get back to her family. Then he realized just how affluential the Parr family of middle-class suburbia was. He doubted _any_ of these people even knew the family, well, the family's alter-egos. He had known that the family would not publicize the girl's disappearance, not wanting to jeopardize their secret identities, which was just fine for him.

After all the introductions had finished, Syndrome turned to the true reason for the evening. "Now, your people said that you were in need of my inventing…" he dropped off, mentally searching for the best way to convey his meaning but also allude to the underlying meaning, "_assistance_."

The men chuckled. "Yes, we are in dire need, and from what we have heard you are our best option."

"How much assistance are we talking about here?" The red-haired man asked, bluntly, his inventor's mind already reeling to start.

"We want our competitors to know that we are not one to be meddled with," Mr. Hiro said with a smirk. "We also wish to stay as inconspicuous as possible. You personally know how difficult the government can be when it comes to personal endeavors," the man added with a chuckle. Buddy scoffed, adding a smirk of his own, not sure whether to take that comment as a compliment or an insult. "But this is hardly the place to discuss such matters, so shall we set up an official meeting sometime next week?"

Now, Buddy smiled. Another sealed deal, and the evening had hardly begun. They agreed on next Thursday and took their seats, as the lights began to dim. He turned to his next conquest of the evening. "What are we watching again?"

Violet looked up from her program. To Buddy, she seemed unsure that he was actually talking to her. Finally she answered. "Madame Butterfly."

He shrugged and narrowed his eyes. "What's that?"

"It's an opera about a Japanese-"

"I thought operas were Italian."

Violet sighed, slowly becoming exasperated; the opera was just beginning to start. They could hear the band tuning up, it sound strangely mangled and beautiful. "You don't have to be so difficult, you know. Many operas are Italian, but that has nothing to do with their subject matter."

He chuckled. "Subject matter, now we're getting all deep. Don't know if I can follow that."

Vi sighed, withholding a chuckle, - it was wrong to chuckle at something _he_ said, wasn't it? - and continued. "It's an opera about a Japanese geisha-"

"Gey-what?"

She just looked at him. "You know, a geisha."

"Yeah, 'cause _everyone_ knows what a gey-sh-ia is."

"I thought everyone _did_," She said, her eyes wide.

He looked at, trying to decipher her expression in the slowly darkening balcony. Then he realized it: embarrassment. Now he _really_ wanted to know what it was. "Well, aren't you going to fill me in?"

"I guess…"

Buddy stared at her, watching her pale skin acquire a pink overtone. This was going to be good. "Well, go on."

She looked over, spastically. Violet leaned in close, and whispered, barely audibly, "It's…it's a Japanese prostitute, thought not like the American ones. There's a lot more to it, I guess…"

Her words faded out. He didn't hear exactly what she said at the end, before she retreated back into her own, personal, opera-filled bubble, reading the program intently. Syndrome smirked, as he heard the first song begin. Oh yes, it was just beginning.

oOo

The first act went by with little activity. Syndrome didn't even spare one glance on the little super. He didn't need to. He could just tell. For the most part, she was pulled into the plot, absorbed into the action, (though, what action she could find in this boring piece of crap that some people called culture he had no idea) but other times she seemed to re-realize just exactly _who_ was sitting to her left, and suddenly Syndrome could positively feel the air around them fill with tension. Slowly, the story (Crap as it was) brought her back to forgetful-ness.

Finally, _praise be to God (though he hadn't been to church in years, Syndrome felt this exaltation was more than necessary. Actually, he believed that God was thanking _himself_ for this torture finally coming to a conclusion.)_, it was intermission.

He stood to stretch, dropping all pretense of actually having class. Though his total lack of inhibition could be considered a different style of class, Violet thought to herself. She herself rose much more slowly and delicately. She heard when one of the businessmen said something, silence following. Then, she realized he had addressed her.

She shook her head lightly and managed a mumbled reply. "I'm sorry could you repeat that?"

The oriental man chuckled. "What did you think of the first act?"

Vi smiled; this was a question she could handle. "I liked it. I do wonder if Butterfly's father's own choice of death was meant to be foreshadowing or if it was meant to add to the cultural background."

Syndrome did a double take. Where did _that_ answer come from? Man this kid did take this stuff seriously, he thought. He listened, more closely this time as the discussion continued. Then the men turned to him, after exhausting all conversation topics about the opera. "So, Mr. Parr, do you have any thoughts on where you wish to take our company's… security system, for lack of a better word?"

"As a matter of fact," he pulled out a sheet of paper and pen from his briefcase, "let me make a few sketches of some ideas." He quickly jotted down four main, basic devices, each one very different from the rest. He passed the sheet to the men, hoping at least one of the plans might go over well.

Violet, seeing the pause in conversation, leaned in to Buddy. "I'm going to run to the restroom." She turned with quick grace, but not before he caught her wrist. She looked back, and he smirked. Suddenly she felt added weight on her wrist. Vi looked to her wrist and could see that he had slipped some sort of metal bracelet onto it. Violet looked back to his face, and abruptly he tugged on her arm, bringing her close.

Violet couldn't but think back to the time they had been this close. In her room, when she had fallen…

She could feel his breath on her ear and made an involuntary shiver. "You didn't think I'd let you get away that easy, did you?" Violet pulled away sharply, narrowing her eyes. In return Syndrome winked and said. "Be back soon, babe."

Vi glared at him before turning on her heel and heading to the bathroom, well, hoping she was heading towards the bathroom, though she had no idea where it was, but anywhere would be a significant improvement.

Finally the young super managed to find a restroom that, surprisingly, was empty.

After noticing that fact, the first thing she did was kick her shoes into the nearest corner and stomp up and down in a loud and childish manner.

How had he _known_?

Well, really it hadn't been that great of a plan, makeshift at best, but it was all she could come up with short notice. If - in the event that her makeshift plan had worked - she wouldn't have gone back on her word. Vi had promised not to try anything _at the _base, or wherever it was he was keeping her. They currently weren't at the base now, were they? She couldn't very well try to escape from there, without going back on her word, but _here_.

Here was free game.

Though it mattered little now, she thought, looking at the contraption on her wrist.

The more Vi thought about it, the more her desire to break free won out over her logic. Really, they _were_ in public. What was the worst he could do to her in _public_?

Violet didn't mull over that idea much longer, knowing she would realize just exactly how many things he could do to her in public. She heard the chime over the intercom, signaling five more minutes, as she put on her shoes quickly, and exited switching into super-hero-stealth-mode. She blended in with the diminishing crowd, till finally she reached the empty entry hall. She descended the stairs with unexpected glee. Vi opened the door, the surprisingly cold air hit her like a slap in the face, a welcome slap. She had gotten this far, maybe, just maybe…

"Where do you thing you're going?" She turned around, and there he was, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. Vi took a deep breath, readying to kick off her shoes and run, but _he_ knew. His serious chuckle stopped the half-turned Violet. "Run if you want to have some major voltage coursing through your veins."

The words were cold and straight forward. Vi couldn't help but look at her wrist skeptically.

He smirked. "Go ahead. Try."

Violet looked up at him. The cold air made her shiver, or maybe, more than likely, it was the way he looked at her. His cold eyes seemed to bore into her. She knew if she didn't fight back she might just fall into those eyes, and never stop falling…

She shook her head fiercely. Nice timing on going all poetic, she thought to herself. She slipped off her shoes, glaring back at her nemesis, and before her first step she doubled over in pain. Violet fell to her hands and knees, panting for air and tears sliding out of her eyes.

Syndrome pushed himself off the wall and sauntered over. He kneeled down in front of her. "Told you." She refused to look up at him, but she did hear him exhale. A few seconds later she could smell the smoke in the air. "You want a puff? It'll help with the pain," she heard him say confidently.

Violet shook her head, struggling to stand. Syndrome took a final drag and tossed the cigarette out into the street. He then proceeded to take hold of her under her arms. She was forced to hold on to him, her body shaking from the electrifying experience. She wanted to insult the man she was standing - practically hugging - so Vi said the first thing that came to mind. "Sm-sm-smoking causes bad breath, yellow teeth, and cancer."

He chuckled and she knew he must be smirking. "And being a goody-two-shoes super heroine will get you into a pretty early grave too." He looked down to her. She could feel his gaze, the same one that had incited that little poetic spurt minutes before. "Look at me."

Violet kept her face against his chest, defiance was easier than obedience.

He sighed, raising a hand to her chin, forcing her to look at him. "I got one piece of advice for you. This is the one thing I think I can actually say I believe one hundred percent and have any right to give advice on." He opened his tuxedo jacket and plucked out another cig as well as his lighter. He took a few puffs before continuing. "Not living is just as bad as dying."

He stared at her and the words resonated with in Violet, making her feel hollow. The feeling was crystal clear, and for a moment Vi thought she might go limp again. She watched with renewed interest as he took another few breathes, exhaling three perfect smoke rings. "H-how do you do that?"

His eyes widened, but it was followed by a chuckle. "It was the only thing I learned from my dead-beat old man before he left my mom and me."

Violet looked down, embarrassed. She had expected a cocky, _you don't know how to do this? I thought everyone did!_ Eff, if she actually got a sob story.

Syndrome seemed to pick up on this. "We were better off without him, but it does make for a nice trick. You sure you don't want to try it?"

Vi didn't answer right away this time, and she didn't know why, but part of her wanted to say yes. She finally whispered no, moving her head against his jacket.

He shrugged. "Whatever, sister." They stumbled a few steps together, before he bent down, taking Violet with him, to pick up her heals. They walked, a little more gracefully this time, to the door. He rapped on it, signaling a near-by usher, who held the door for them, trying, though not succeeding, in masking his curiosity. Neither did Syndrome offer any explanations to the odd scene.

They continued back towards the box. When they reached the curtain he whispered, "You twisted you're ankle. Lucky, I went out for a smoke and passed by you." Violet had recovered almost entirely the ability to walk, but she still couldn't stop shaking.

Syndrome pushed back the curtain to their balcony, shoes still in tow. All heads turned their way. He didn't seem to notice as he escorted her to the seat. Only then did he turn around. "She twisted her ankle."

Mr. Hiro laughed. "We were beginning to wonder just what had happened to you." The men all shared a collective snicker and Violet blushed. The men quickly quieted as the singing commenced.

Buddy twiddled his thumbs, bored. He looked to the girl sitting next to him. He smirked. He could tell that she was acutely aware of his gaze. Syndrome took account of her tense manner, but her hand, which was resting on the arm of her chair, sparked an idea. He slid his hand over hers.

It tensed instantly.

He leaned to the left putting his hand over his mouth in a contemplative manner to hide a chuckle. He had always thought of her as inexperienced, but not even being comfortable with _hand holding_ - albeit with the man who tried to murder her once, but really it's all about the same. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.

Violet couldn't breathe. Well, she could, just not enough, or in any sort of pattern. It wasn't so much breathing as it was random panting or gasping. Hopefully, the man sitting next to her couldn't notice. Surely he was stifling laughter at some inane joke he had just suddenly remembered…

Ok, so he knew just _exactly_ how uncomfortable she was, and he was taking joy in it.

_Jerk!_

She huffed spastically and tried to think of something, but her mind was flashing "system overload" in bright red letters in front of her eyes, not to mention her arm was shaking, either that or there was an earthquake ranking 5.9 on the richer scale. Currently no one was running for their lives, so her arm must be shaking.

_Crap!_

Who would ever hold hands with their arch-nemesis' daughter? Really, and not to mention-

_Wait!_

Was his thumb _caressing_ her hand?

She had to find a way to get out of this. So Violet waited and tried to ignore him - not the easiest task - until some chance presented itself to allow her to escape his grip. Finally, a song ended, and the crowd applauded. Vi quickly joined in.

This time, however, Syndrome didn't even bother hiding his amusement. He chuckled and said, "You not like that, kid?"

Violet turned to him. "Not particularly."

He smirked, and they turned back to the show, though neither was really watching.

oOo

When the show ended, there was a standing ovation. After which Syndrome turned around to face his colleagues. "Have your people call my secretary, and we'll finalize the meeting."

There head nodding and hand shakes, Violet included, but one comment in particular made her smirk.

"Well, Mr. Pine, you have a lovely escort, much too pretty for you." It was Mr. Hiro, which didn't surprise her.

Buddy smiled and laughed in a forced manner, obviously not liking the comment as much as Violet had. "I suppose I best be getting my 'lovely escort' home." He then turned and placed a warm hand in the small of her back, ushering her out of the balcony box.

They walked to the entrance in silence, and when he took his hand from her back, to open her door for her, she had a sudden chill from the brisk air around them. She hurried into the warm limousine.

Buddy walked around and opened the door for himself, motioning for the driver to get back inside. He hopped in, casually and slammed the door. The car had just started to move when it stopped suddenly. Buddy scowled. "What's the hold up?"

"Uh, sir, you're door won't shut. I believe something is in the way of the lock," the driver said.

Violet's eyes widened: _an idea_.

Buddy rolled his eyes and re-opened his door. He pulled his coat tail in and slammed the door, again. "We good to go, _now_?"

"Of course, sir."

The ride back was silent. When they arrived back at the base, they were greeted by a guard who relayed a message from Angela saying for Buddy to call her immediately. Syndrome sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Fine, you take the girl back to her room then."

Vi tried to hold in a smile, _even better_.

The guard walked briskly and Violet struggled to keep up in her heels, but managed. When the guard opened the door for her, she mumbled a thank you and stepped in, but before the door shut, she created a tiny force field, just large enough to stop the door from locking.

She waited, not wanting to ruin the first real chance at escape she had come by. When she thought five minutes - give or take, but most likely take - had passed she changed into a more suitable outfit. She took a deep breath, pulling back her hair into a pony tail, and reached for the door.

It opened.

She smiled and stealthily slipped through.

oOo

**A/N:** I AM SO SORRY!!!! I know what you were all thinking, _crzysheelf has abandoned us!!_ NO I HAVE RETURNED!! School has just been ridiculous. If you want the recap, check out my profile and then the link to my Livejournal, Xanga, or Deviant! Also, I DEMAND you all go to the Synlet community, also linked to from my profile!! I'll try to update sooner, this time!! So, until then, I bid you all farewell and happy shipping!


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Incredibles, and I can admit that now…

**A/N:** First this chapter is 23 pages long, so my suggestion is if you don't have time, don't start, lol!! Oh, yeah, Syndrome makes a minority joke in the middle somewhere. Please don't take offense to it. I myself am a minority - I am a Native American - and just thought it would be in character for Syndrome to do that. Also, due to not wanting to spoil the chapter, I have left my rant until the end. So, read, review, and all that jazz. I also don't own Rambo and probably many other copyrighted things in this chapter.

**Timeline**: Syndrome's trial took one year. Then his house arrest was for four months. I'm guessing that Syndrome was eight when he attempted to become Incrediboy. So during the movie I'm saying that he was twenty-three. I'm also considering that the movie took place during spring. (They did go to a track meet) So Violet had just finished her eighth grade year and was going to be a freshman. Now a year and four months later she is into her sophomore year of high school, and she is **fifteen**, while Syndrome is **twenty-four**. I'm guessing its late August-early-September-ish. There you go, the longest background info you will ever get!!

Chapter 9

_Daddy always said there is a line, and that line is what separates us from them, the villains. The difference is that they don't have lines, and even if they do there lines are transparent and ever changing as they are. Daddy said that to cross that line is to become one of them. _

_Well, today I crossed that line. I guess I had been inching towards it for sometime now, and, I guess, I thought that maybe I could just hop over my line and then hop back over, no one the wiser, but I was wrong…_

She ran.

She ran and didn't look back.

She had no idea where she was going, nor did she have any idea what to do, except run. She'd been practically immobile for so long that it felt so good just to run. At first, she ran towards the only room she knew how to get to, the room where she and Syndrome had called her father, but then common sense kicked in. She knew that Syndrome would think to look for her there, so she took the next, random turn she came to.

Vi took two more blind turns, amazed that her disappearance had gone unnoticed. She took one more turn, and her smiled faded. A guard was at the end of the hallway.

He hadn't seen her. He appeared to be reading some sort of paper. Violet knew her time was short. So she started running, her bare feet silent, recalling something she had asked Kari to teach her a long time ago. Surprisingly enough, Kari had been quite the soccer star. Her specialty was _slide tackles_.

Violet began to let her weight fall backwards, her feet twisting, aiming, just as the guard looked up. She closed her eyes, as her foot made contact, seeing in her minds eye the guard flying over her…

She stood, hearing the clump of the guard's body weight, sparing one second to look back and smirk, before running again. Vi knew she had few seconds before-

She clenched her ears, the sirens blaring.

She ran to the first door she came to and shook the handle, _locked_. She ran to the next two, both locked. Violet frantically ran down the hall and turned to the left and went towards the first door. She could hear voices coming. She grabbed the knob, like a mad woman and turned.

It opened.

She ran in and shut the door, locking it. Violet fell against it, gasping, but tensed immediately, when the voices came near, but they too faded away. When her breathing finally regulated, she pushed herself off the door and started to actually look at the room she had locked herself into.

Violet could tell immediately that it was one of _his_ offices. She looked around. It was a very symmetrical rectangle - so like him - with the door off to the left side. The right side was wall-to-wall-ceiling-to-floor bookshelves. Right in front of her was a flat table, with a hanging light, coloring the room that eerie blue Syndrome seemed to love so much. The thing that most struck Violet was the sheer amount of paper. It was everywhere, all over the floor, sticking between and on top of books, overflowing from the trash can.

She first walked over the bookshelves, and pulled out a few random books. Most seemed to be about higher level physics, some on robotics, but then a different sort of book caught her eye.

_Supers: Mutants or Monsters?_

She reached for it, but drew away, not even wanting it near her vicinity. She spied the book next to it, which wasn't much better.

_Super Relocation: The Calm before the Storm. _

Like the first book, Violet feared touching it, not wanting to give its vicious words life, but she sucked it up. She wouldn't let a _book _beat her. She flipped through the first few pages, but stopped when a certain photo caught her eye. It was Mr. Incredible. She skimmed the pages, the entire prologue was dedicated to her father and a man named Oliver Sansweet, the supposed father of revolution, a man who had tried to kill himself only to be saved by her father.

Violet shook her head in disgust and placed the book back on the shelf. She turned around and realized that there wasn't just any table in the room; It was a light table. Vi had messed with one a few years ago in art class, and ever since then, they had always fascinated her. She walked over and brushed her hand across the edge, not worrying about the papers, falling to the floor.

She stood in front of the light table, facing the door through which she had entered. She stood, closing her eyes; she could just _see_ Syndrome standing there, where she was right now, plotting his heinous activities.

Vi opened her eyes, unsettled by the idea and scanned the table. It was on a low setting, radiating the smallest hint of white light…

"_You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden…" _

The verses left her mind as quickly as they had entered. She couldn't help, but also wonder how she could stay hidden, but, after scanning the table, her fears retreated to the back of her mind.

Almost every inch was covered with papers, sketches, and schematics, but her eyes locked onto the outline of a little book. The edges were visible from beneath the papers, the light making the outlines glow, whereas the body of the book was dark and foreboding.

Of course, Violet couldn't resist.

She shuffled the pages aside and picked up the book delicately. She opened it, and Vi didn't know how, but she just knew that this book was more than just a sketch book. She skimmed the pages. The first few appeared to be early plans for zero-point energy - this book _was_ old - afterwards, followed by a few newspaper clippings dealing with supers. She kept flipping through, until a page filled entirely with _his_ handwriting caught her attention.

_She's wonderful. I have no way of saying it besides that. I don't know what I could do. We met, and she's not like the rest of those pompous supers. She's… different, and she likes _me. _Isn't that just too crazy, she likes _me_. She's so amazing, and punctual. The best thing she remembers everything. Like today for instance, I forgot to screw in the coolant mechanism properly, and she pointed it out to me. I mean, come on, I could have blown the whole place up if she hadn't been there…_

It went on, but Violet didn't want to read any more, something about reading Syndrome's professions of love unsettled her. She skipped farther back. Violet looked from page to page, but stopped when large words stopped her dead in her tracks.

_Anti-Super Venom­._

oOo

"What are you talking about?" Syndrome switched the cell phone to his left hand. His minions watched as their leader made confused faces at the air in front of him. "No, I'm pretty sure I know who was sitting next to me in the limo."

Syndrome sighed, shaking his head. What in the world was Angela talking about. "Listen, babe, I still got the kid. She's in her room right now, okay, and what's Edna Mode got to do with anything-"

"_Sir!_"

He turned, not happy to be disturbed. "Can't you see I'm on the phone, or did affirmative action make me hire blind people as well as minorities?"

The guard stuttered, and Syndrome turned back to the phone. "Angela," he sighed. "I can't really-"

"Um, sir."

"Hey, don't you listen-"

"The girl's gone." The guard finally spit out.

"_What!_ Why didn't you say something?" Syndrome handed him the phone and hurried to the computer where other personnel had gathered. "Okay, people, fill me in," he said, slipping off his jack and bow tie.

One young secretary spoke up. "The surveillance picked up on the door opening after the guard had left. So we decided to check up on the room, but she was gone."

"Move," he said, and the woman rolled her chair back immediately. Syndrome leaned to the keyboard and started typing faster than any trained secretary. He had been - well, still was - quite the tech-y. He punched in the identifier code on her wrist bracelet, and the computer located her instantly…

In his personal office.

Syndrome's mouth set into a firm line. "Surround the room, but don't go in. I'll go myself." He started walking off, rolling up his dress shirt sleeves. Oh was that kid in for it.

oOo

Violet wasn't as afraid as she had been. The idea, for that's what it was, was still in its earliest stages. It wasn't even close to ready. She didn't even know if the plan was feasible, but she did know Syndrome and that, to him, everything was feasible.

She shook her head and slipped the book into the top of her waistband, having no pockets, and headed to the door. Violet couldn't believe she had gotten so side-tracked. She put her ear to the door and when she heard nothing, took hold of the handle.

As she began to turn, it flung open, and Vi fell to the floor, the door knocking her backwards. When she saw the figure behind the action, she began to scramble back, but the papers stopped her from making any headway.

Syndrome crossed the threshold, slamming the door behind him. He looked at her once, before turning and methodically locking the door. She could hear him sigh, exasperated. He leaned his forearm against the door, his hand still on the knob. "You said you wouldn't pull any more of this bull crap. That's the whole point of a promise! What part of this don't you get?" Syndrome turned, red in the face from anger. Violet couldn't help but look away, but her head snapped back when she heard him…_ chuckle_?

She watched as his shoulders shook. Yes, that was definitely chuckling.

He shook his head. "I mean come on! Twice in one day, and I can even track you!" Violet watched as his hand gestured wildly, moving from waist to forehead and everywhere else in between. "You really don't get this whole hero/villain bit, do you?" He laughed again, but when Violet made no move to reply - wasn't that a rhetorical question, anyway? - he shrugged. "Ok, so you going to fight me, or are you going to come willingly?"

She shook her head - not tonight, no, tonight, she was going to fight, if only for tonight. Vi listened to his chuckled, and then the shuffle of papers. She looked up in time to see him reach for her, but not quite enough to evade his grasp. "You know you aren't that bright. All good plans take planning," he said, pulling her towards the door, and she was trying to fight, but exhaustion was against her. "I should know-"

He stopped, and Violet with him, when _something_ smacked the floor…

Vi sucked in her breath, for she knew _exactly_ what had fallen. Finally, Syndrome saw it. She watched the realization play along the features of his face. He turned to her. "What did you see?"

His voice was cold and serious. "I… just…"

He shook her, slightly, "We're past the point of your under-done lies. Now what did you see?"

"Just some schematics."

"Strange how I somehow don't believe that."

"It's true!"

He scoffed and pushed her towards the door. His hold on her was more solid than ever, but that didn't deter Violet's wriggling - not tonight. All too soon they were back at her room.

_Her _room.

She had been there too long; she was making it possessive in her head, a way it shouldn't be. It wasn't her room. It was a room _he _kept her in, kept her locked in to be exact. Once they were in. He pushed her, hard.

She stumbled before gaining her stance. Vi watched as he turned twice to say something, but finally found the words. Violet sighed. Here it came, the monologue. "_You_, I'd _love_ to believe you, really." Let the eye-rolling ensue; he had begun to pace. "But, you, _Violet_," he said her name, drawing it out, "have planted mistrust betwixt us, if I may say so, and I am now not sure if anything you say is believable." He chuckled in his villainous manner - why was he so good at that? - and stopped to face her. "I was going to let you go, after everything was said and done, but now, maybe you know too much."

Violet cut in - not tonight. "Let's cut to the chase, because, yes, I'm not the best superhero out there, but I _am_ a superhero, and I know a monologue when I see, well, hear, one. I doubt you were actually considering letting me go free, but I hardly know anything. You've kept me in one room for the past thirteen days, maybe fourteen if it's past midnight, so really what can I know? So, please, I don't know what you want," she sighed as he tried to interject, but just kept plowing through. "Yes, I know you want revenge, but as to what form I am at a loss. I guess all I'm saying is I just want to go home!"

Syndrome stared at her, seemingly unshaken by her words. He closed the gap between them. "Get this: _no_. You are stuck here for as long as I deem appropriate and convenient. Get over your sorry little girl self, and deal with it."

She furrowed her brow, knowing what she wanted to say, but daring not. Then she looked back to him - not tonight. "And my dad didn't want to baby sit you sixteen years ago. Get over _yourself_ and deal with it." She looked away, but then, turned back. "_Grow up_."

He chuckled, but instantly he had her. Violet grimaced at his grip. "Don't tell me to grow up, you're fifteen. What do you know?" He pushed her backwards.

"Enough to know that I hurt you."

After she said it, she immediately wished she hadn't, yes she didn't want to be a jelly fish tonight, but she also wanted to live to see tomorrow.

"You didn't hurt me. You can't hurt me. You're father did that all on his freaking own." She began to back away, as his face began to redden with anger. "Oh, what you afraid, now?" he asked, and began to approach, but stopped at the table, he threw it over abruptly, knocking it and all its contents to the floor. "_Afraid now!_" He kicked some of the objects harshly, as Violet continued to go back back back-

The wall, and that's as far as she could go.

"Afraid now, Invisigirl? Well, you should be, because tomorrow, you're going to find out just how sweet revenge is." He smirked, and walked backwards and opened the door. "Sweet dreams _Violet_." He hit a few digits on the key pad and suddenly the room was black except for the slit of light spilling in from the door, outlining her captor, until that too disappeared.

oOo

The next day Bob Parr woke up early. He had told his wife the night before that he was going back to work. Of course that's what he had said.

NSA had gotten him another job, this time a slightly more exciting one. He worked as a construction worker. Of course, it was rather blue collar, but that didn't bother Bob. He was happy just to be doing something outside of a cubicle. Because of this he had moved up the corporal ladder quickly, and management had been more than happy to give him time off for a "family emergency."

It had been two weeks, so it made sense that he was going back, He couldn't stay away forever, but Bob thought one more day wouldn't hurt, and today he had a plan.

It was raining, and he had forgotten his rain coat, so when he arrived at the cheap dinner his wind breaker was thoroughly soaked. He shook off as he looked around the dinner-

"Bob, over here."

He turned to the left, and there she was, sitting at a booth up against the window in a brown trench coat. Her white hair and dark skin, made her appear as if she had just stepped out of a 40's black and white detective show, in the sepia tones. He slipped off his jack and hung in on the hall tree nearby. "Hello mirage. I didn't know if you would come."

"Of course I came. You know how much I owe you." She smiled at him, warmly.

"No, me and my family are the ones who owe you." He said looking away. "But, that's why I came..."

"No, now you must know that NSA would have never hired me without your recommendation, and," she leaned in to whispered, "Syndrome had wanted to use me as a scapegoat as I'm sure you're aware."

"Actually, that's why I came-"

"Bob," she chuckled. "I'm not an idiot. I know why you came," she said.

He looked up. "You do?"

She smirked. "I may be a 'good guy' now, but that doesn't mean I don't make it my business to know what is going on around NSA. You think _he_ has you're daughter, am I right?"

Bob sighed, "Yes, and I was wondering if-"

"If I would talk to him?"

He nodded, but looked up when she placed one of her hands over his two folded ones.

"Surely you know I would do anything for you."

"Mirage, we, I-"

"I know, Bob, I know." She looked away, but then caught his eyes gain. "But that doesn't mean a girl can dream." She removed her hand. "Now you'd best leave, and go home to your wife, before I forget that I'm a lady."

Bob nodded and stood. He walked towards the door, putting on his jacket, but took one final look back at her, the forbidden apple, before heading back into the rain, to home.

oOo

Helen Parr was cleaning out the refrigerator - having already washed the windows, vacuumed, and gone through both the attic and garage - when the phone range. She reached for it, stretching, but keeping her attention on the old butter container currently filled with old thanksgiving cranberries or left over beets. "Parr residence." Neither could Helen decide whether or not the contents was salvageable.

"Mrs. Parr, I wasn't expecting you."

Helen dropped the butter dish, the unidentifiable contents splattering around her. "Where's my baby?"

"Your _baby_ is just fine."

"You listen to me, whoever you are, you let my daughter go." Helen stood clutching the refrigerator door handle for support.

"Oh, Mrs. Parr, now you're a smart lady. I can't just give up little Vi for nothing."

"Leave her alone. Leave my family _alone_!" Helen screamed, taking the phone from her ear, and beating the counter with it before chucking it into the living room. She then turned on the refrigerator contents sitting on floor. She began kicking…

"Mom?"

She turned to see Dash standing, backpack in hand, afraid. "Oh, Dash. I'm sorry." She looked down, and she too, couldn't believe herself.

"Do you need help cleaning up, mom?" Dash's hesitant expression quickly turned into a smirked, and before Helen could answer, he was off. She could only see a blur of him, zooming around the kitchen. When he stopped, not long after beginning, the room was clean, the floor was gleaming, and the fridge empty. "Oh, Dash."

"I know, mom. I miss Vi too."

oOo

Violet woke with a start, as one of the guards nudged her with his toe. "Huh?" She looked up, from where she had fallen asleep the previous night, up against the wall, too shaken up to even stumble to the bed.

"Boss wants to see you." She blinked, adjusting to the light. When her eyes finally decided to cooperate, she noticed something different; the guards were holding their guns out and ready. This hadn't been the case for some time, yes, things were different.

She stood, not seeing any way to not obey. Her impertinence must have had a hang over from last nights wild ride. She walked behind the first guard, docile, with the other taking up the rear, this too was a new mode of operation.

She followed the familiar path, oh great. She was afraid, but not terribly so. Though her impertinence wasn't up to speed, her skepticism was, and it was telling her that Syndrome, though an absolute jerk and borderline mental case, was violent and deranged at times, he wasn't really going to do anything too drastic. Perhaps it was her human indestructible-invincible complex, that was so common in young people, or so she'd been told, but she truly thought that he just wouldn't-

"Hey!" she said, as the rear guard knocked her in the back with her gun.

"Wake up and get in."

She blinked, she hadn't even registered stopping nonetheless that the other guard was holding the door for her. "Oh, yeah, right."

She walked through, and there he was, sitting in his chair, legs crossed at the ankles, his hands behind his head. "D-day, kid, how do you feel?"

And suddenly her impertinence had hit the ground running. "Well, tired mostly, and a little hungry, and to tell the truth, I could use a shower." She watched as Syndrome smirked and snapped a finger.

"_Ahh_!"

Violet fell to the floor, her leg entirely numb. "What was that all about?"

"That, Parr, is a tactic I insist all my guards know. If struck in exactly the right position, your leg goes absolutely numb, as you have found."

She rolled over clutching her leg. "You could have given me a warning."

"Maybe you shouldn't have given me so much trouble. Now let's get with calling your father, shall we?"

oOo

Bob entered the house, but was shocked at the lack of activity. As the sun began to set, the rain had blown itself out, and now warm light was coming through the windows, giving everything a yellow hue.

Bob looked in the living room, kitchen, and the bedroom, for his wife, and when he couldn't find her a slight panic began to set in. He rushed to their daughter's room - she had been prone to sitting in there these past two weeks - then to Jack-Jack's room, but his son was asleep in his crib. Bob rushed to their eldest son's room, his last hope.

The door was cracked and when he peered in there she was.

_Thank God_.

She was kneeling, stroking their eldest son's hair. Bob could see the slightest glisten of sweat, not surprising considering the fact that Dash never slowed down. He pushed the door open a little more, but cringed when it creaked.

Helen's head snapped towards the door. "Oh, it's you."

Her voice was filled with both relief and disappointment. Bob had watched her eyes dart to the phone the instant it would ring. That hope, that maybe, just maybe...

"Yes, just me."

She looked back to their son. "_He_ called while you were out."

"What! What did he say?"

"Nothing much, just some taunting."

"I'm sorry. I should have been here-"

He stopped abruptly as Dash began to stir. When he quieted, Helen stood, and exited silently, letting Bob close the door behind her. She looked to her husband expectantly, waiting for him to continue. He never did. "Bob?" She waved a hand in front of her dazed husbands face.

"Sorry honey, I was thinking."

"About what?"

"Well-" He was cut off by the ringing of the phone, oh how appropriate.

"It's him, I can tell." He turned, but she grabbed him.

"Bob, wait, let me."

"No." the command was firm, but carried a weight that Helen rarely heard her husband exercise. She obeyed without complaint. Mr. Parr walked over to the phone and slowly picked it up. "Hello."

"Hello, Mr. Parr." The distorted voice said. "I believe it's time to discuss a certain transaction."

oOo

Violet refused to pick herself up off the floor even when the feeling in her leg returned. So she laids on the floor, listening to the silence, Syndrome's chair squeaking, hating reality, but hoping this moment will never end, because what comes after this could be so much worse, but then life continued.

"Hello, Mr. Parr, I believe it's time to discuss a certain transaction."

There's silence, then _his_ laughter. "Yes, actually I did have a very nice chat with your wife-"

And Violet was on her feet. "You talked to mom?"

"Well I'm sure you both are eager to have your daughter back. So I'm going to make this simple. Have your wife leave the room." Syndrome waited, watching the screen and also obstructing it from Violet's view, until the Mrs. Parr exited, though not very willingly, it appeared. "Yes, well, I have been thinking that you, Mr. Incredible, have been held in too high esteem for too long. I think its time to give your public image a little make over."

Vi, in a happier situation, would have rolled her eyes. What kind of villain says _make over_?

"'Just get on with it?' I wouldn't be so particular if I was in your position, Mr. Incredible, with your daughter less than a foot away and all. Yes, she's _right_ here." He swiveled in his chair to face her, and they caught eyes. "Yes, I'm sure she wants to see you as well. Now, there's only one requirement for your daughter's safe return; it is for this to be between just you and me, and I _will_ know if this gets out, trust me. Now, the plan is that you will show up, tomorrow, at the First National Bank of Metroville in your full super attire, and you are going to _rob_ said bank-"

"_Ahh!_" Syndrome dropped the phone as _nothing_ gave him a punch right in the jaw. Syndrome watched as _nothing_ picked up the phone from the floor. "Daddy, you can't, you can't. It doesn't matter. I'm fine. I almost escaped. I'll get out somehow. Don't do it-"

She fell to the ground, materializing and dropping the phone. She hadn't been expecting an electric shock, but then again that was Syndrome for her, always full of surprises.

She looked up in time to see Syndrome reaching for the phone, and she was up again. "No!"

Syndrome lurched backwards, barely escaping the young super. "Hey! Is anyone competent enough to get her the frick out of here?"

Violet looked to the sides, taking in her odds, and made a run for the door, but fell to the floor again when the electric shock was re-administered. The guards picked her up by the arms, forcefully, but that didn't stop her from fighting.

When she was finally out, Syndrome continued. "You have raised a crazy kid, and a second-rate super. Hope you're happy."

"I won't be happy until I have my daughter back."

"If you want you're daughter back, I want you to rob that bank tomorrow. I want you to go to jail and to never have the public consider you a hero again. I want you become the villain, Mr. Incredible. That's my price, and trust me, I'm good on my word."

He hung up the phone rubbed his jaw, heading to see what had gotten into that kid. In the hallway he met up with the two guards. "Hey! When I tell you to guard her, that includes making sure she doesn't go all Rambo on me!"

Both guards stuttered and looked to one another for answers neither had. Syndrome rolled his eyes and walked past them, muttering something about incompetence and in-breeding. When he reached her room, he entered without knocking…

Barely seeing the flying object - _is that a soap dish?_ - coming at him…

Actually, above him and to the left…

He cocked his head to the side. "Oh nice sh-"

He cried out as a piece of falling glass caught his arm, followed by numerous expletives. He clutched his arm, and somehow managed to shut the door with his foot. His eyes found the girl, tossing the actual bar and soap, up and down, up and down, nonchalantly. She was neither smirking, which had been his first expectation, nor was she on the verge of tears, which had been his second.

Violet Parr was angry. "You don't get to ruin my daddy's reputation, not without a fight."

"Hey, babe, you wanted to go home. Well, now you get to-"

She chucked the soap at him, still missing him by a mile. Syndrome looked from the bar of soap to Violet. "You really suck, you know that?"

Vi snapped.

She didn't even bother to disappear, Violet simply began throwing any and all objects at him, but somehow he still managed to make headway towards her. When they were close, too close, she looked side to side, and saw her best option. She tipped the bed over, and almost succeeded in catching him beneath.

Syndrome grumbled and darted around the bed, but Violet jumped over, tuck-and-rolling at the last second. "Oh, how graceful if only I was a super like you." Syndrome said in an effeminate voice.

"I hate you!"

"Feelings mutual!"

Vi huffed and grabbed the desk chair, the only upright piece of furniture in the room, and hurled it at him. Syndrome dodged it, but it had been her closest attempt so far. He grumbled and decided to make one more last ditch effort before resorting to calling reinforcements.

He ran straight for her. She didn't have a chance. After grabbing her, he turned, and pushed them both up against the wall. He took hold of her wrists, placing them above her head, pinning her in place. "What is wrong with you?" He asked. He held tight as she still thrashed, trying to get away, ignoring the throbbing pain coming from his bleeding arm wound. She wouldn't look at him, her eyes darting wildly. His scientific mind knew that there was nothing wrong with her, simply her animal instinct to survive.

He could feel her panting from the excursion, and he took an assessment of her, comparing her to the mental image of the Violet Parr who had come to his domain two weeks ago. She seemed younger then, but at the opera, now even, she seemed _older_. Oh, yes, how much older she looked…

Violet kept her eyes away from his face, but finally managed to speak between gasps. "Please, you can't-"

He never gave her the chance to finish, placing his lips on her own, abruptly.

Violet's eyes widened blinking, looking to his closed ones, but then she began to fall into the _kiss_.

Her eyes closed; His opened.

He pushed away, gasping, and then, he began to pace. Violet, on the other hand, watched and wished.

She wished her hands would stop shaking, so she could slap him for his audacity…

She wished she could find the courage to confront him…

She wished it hadn't been her first kiss…

And, most of all, she wished that she hadn't _liked_ it…

"What is it about you?"

Violet looked to him, suddenly out of her trance. "What?"

"I don't _get_ you. I just don't."

Violet scoffed. "_You_ don't get _me_. Well, I don't get you." Her words were barely above a whisper, "Who- who-" she couldn't even say it. "I'm an incredible. Why…"

"_I don't know, ok!_" he yelled. "I just don't know." He turned, threw down the chair, and left. He walked, dazed, clutching his battle wound, to the doctor's office and makeshift infirmary. He had a proper infirmary at the other end of the complex, but Syndrome had wanted the doctor as close as possible to the girl.

When he arrived at the door, he sighed, realizing he couldn't very well use his hands to get the door. Instead he kicked the door three times. His foot was reeled back for a fourth when the door opened.

Doctor Randall blinked. "Boss?" Then he saw his arm. "Good gracious! Get in here!"

Syndrome was taken back by the doctor's alarm and obvious care, but forced out a scoff instead. "Took you long enough."

The doctor reached over to the coat hook, grabbing his medical jacket and stethoscope. "Sit down and whatever you do, don't take the pressure off your arm," he said forcefully, but quickly added a mild, "sir."

Sitting on the medical desk, Syndrome watched as the man bustled over to a counter, washed his hands, and slapped on some rubber gloves. The sound was _not_ comforting.

Doctor Randall grabbed some gauzes. "Okay, on three move your hand. One, two, three."

Syndrome moved his now sticky hand and hissed as the cotton gauzes were applied. The doctor wrapped some medical tape around his arm. "The wound needs to clot. I'll give you something to help with that. So tell me," the round man said. Buddy watched as the doctor turned around to the counter to look for the medicine. _For just a moment he thought of his own father, bending over to look in the refrigerator for another beer…_

He shook his head. Suddenly the balding man was right in front him. Syndrome took the pill from his outstretched hand. "How did this happen?"

Syndrome chuckled, dry swallowing the pill, "The brat didn't like what I have in mind for her father, so she threw a soap dish at me," he paused and then added darkly, "among other things."

"She must be quite the marksman."

Syndrome narrowed his eyes, did back-bone-less doc just crack a smile at his at the kid harming him? "Actually not, it hit the wall about a foot above me, and to the left. It shattered, and one piece just happened to catch my arm," The villain's eyes flashed darkly, remembering the scuffle, not to mention how it had ended. "Lucky me."

The doctor stiffened. "Do I need to go and see her, as well?" He asked a strange solemnity in his voice.

Buddy's face fell. "What kind of person do you think I am, doc?"

"Well… I'm not saying…"

"Yeah, you are, doc. So how about you just come out with it and say _exactly _what you want to say?" Syndrome stood up, now towering over the doctor.

"Well, it's just that, you're reputation, and you did kidnap her, and…" he trailed off.

"So basically I'm capable of anything, like beating a minor, right, that's what you're saying?"

The doctor blinked, but finally managed to work up the courage to look Syndrome in the eyes. "You've said you ought to do it enough times already."

Syndrome leaned in and answered him quietly, "Well to allay your fears no I didn't hit her, but you might want to check on her mental stability. After all, She _is_ the one who threw a glass soap dish at me." He walked out, but at the door he added. "Oh, if you do go by, you might want to take a helmet."

oOo

Syndrome sat at his computer screen watching his foe.

His arm was throbbing. He didn't care.

Angela kept paging. He didn't care.

He was so close, so _friggin'_ close, to revenge, and he didn't…

_No!_

He stood, angrily, and shook his head. Syndrome turned, kicking over the chair. Yes, he cared. Of course, he cared. This is what he had wanted-

"Mr. Pine."

He turned to see Angela standing in the doorway. "_What?_"

"There's someone here to see you."

"Tell them I'm a tad busy at the moment-" His words dropped, as _she_ entered the room.

"Hello, Buddy," Mirage said.

He said nothing, rather, and turned to Angela. "What the eff is _she_ doing here?"

Mirage spoke again. "We need to talk."

Syndrome looked back to Mirage. "Hey, we already had the 'we need to talk' break-up conversation, so don't even start with me." He turned back to Angela. "And you, where do you get off bringing her in here?"

Mirage wouldn't be ignored. "Let the Parr girl go."

"Oh, so not only do you come here after that stunt you pulled, but you also bring false accusations." Syndrome said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Get out."

Angela sighed, exasperatedly. "Talk to her. You need to get over her, and you can't dot hat without talking to her." Syndrome tried to interject, but Angela wouldn't allow it. "No, I've watched you mope for months. Now, suck it up and tell her off so you can stop grumbling to me about how much you hate her, because I'm getting pretty sick of it." Angela turned on her heel and left, leaving a deafening silence behind.

"Buddy, I-"

"No, you don't get to talk."

Mirage placed her hands on her hips. "Look, I'm not here to apologize, because I didn't do anything wrong." Buddy shook his head. "Listen to me, we were the ones in the wrong, Buddy. I was right to jump ships."

"Oh yeah, you jumped alright. Right onto _Mr. Incredible_."

"_Buddy!_"

"It's true. Don't deny it. I know really why you turned on me, and it wasn't any revelation of truth. It was because there was something in it for you." He chuckled. "Or so you thought."

"I am sorry I hurt you."

"Like I care, and just so you know I hate you just as much as I hate him."

"Buddy, I'm not here to talk about us-"

"What _'us'_?"

"I'm here to talk about Violet."

"You must think pretty highly of yourself, coming in here, accusing me of a crime I'm not guilty of. So go tell that to you super _bf_."

"I know you, Buddy, and I know when you're lying."

"You don't know me, Mirage, you _don't_. Not anymore."

"Just give it up. Let her and you grudge go."

"_No!_" He came close to her. It was the closest they'd been in more than a year, and it _hurt_. "I'll keep what's mine close; that's what I hold onto at night, my dreams of grandeur and revenge. They keep me nice and warm. What's keeping you warm, Mirage? How about that salary from NSA? How's that pay cut treating you?"

"I get by." She said tersely.

"I'm so glad." He said their faces inches apart. "Now get out."

"Not without the Parr girl."

"Then you'd better have some other leads." He chuckled and began walk about his office. "You know what I think? I bet she ran away. Couldn't handle the pressures and all that other super crap, or, maybe, she ran off with some boy, all love struck."

"Stop it, Buddy, stop it right now."

"So you do remember what an absolute moron cupid can be."

Mirage took a step towards him. "I did love you, really."

"But now you love_ him_."

"It doesn't really matter who I love, does it, but what about you, Buddy. Who do _you_ love, besides, of course, your money and fame? I know it's not Angela. So, who?"

"I love no one but myself. I've found that's the safest route."

Mirage shook her head. "You're lying. I can tell."

"Nope, just me, myself, and I. Now, you've overstayed your welcome. As I've found women are so prone to do." He said, and then Mirage knew.

"She's somewhere in here."

"Either you can leave now, or I can have security escort you out."

Mirage wouldn't be moved. "Buddy, the jury isn't going to go so easy on you this time."

Buddy smirked. "I'd be more worried about your boyfriend if I were you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

At that moment two guards walked in. "Just in time, boys."

Mirage turned when they reached for her arms. "Fine, Buddy, be that way."

"Good talking to you too." Syndrome stood, watching his ex-girlfriend be escorted out of his building, a sight he hoped to never forget. Then Angela came in.

Syndrome sighed, knowing that she'd have to put her two cents in. He was right. Angela shut the door behind her, before starting. "You aren't going to hurt just him. Do you realize that?"

"Get out, Angela. I'm so sick of women."

"Her family won't be able to do super work. They may even lose their secret identities."

Syndrome groaned as he picked up the chair and sat down. "Like I care."

"I think you do."

"No I don-"

"Then you're just as bad as _he_ was all those years ago."

oOo

Fifteen minutes later, Angela walked out of the room and headed to her cubicle to send out an email that had been sitting in her "send later" folder for over a week. The email was entitled Operation Reform.

Three minutes later, when Angela was out of hearing distance, Buddy walked out of his office to the nearest work room, because it was Sunday and the work room was his best bet for finding something alcoholic to drink.

Buddy entered the workroom and immediately went to the fridge. After a few moments he realized, he wasn't alone. He stood and turned. Three guards were standing around, coffee mugs in hand. "Sir, is there something you need us to do?"

Buddy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, go check your email." The three men hurried towards the door, but Buddy thought of something else. "Hey. Any of you guys know where I could get something alcoholic?"

"Sir, isn't it against policy to have alcoholic beverages on the premises?"

"Yeah, it is, but I need to have something to drink. You'd understand why, if you'd read your emails."

The three men exchanged looks, and one leaned in to the others, whispering. "Is this some kind of test or trick?" Another nodded. "I think so."

"Oh, get out, and go check your emails. I'll find the liquor myself." Buddy slammed the fridge door, as the men ran from the room. He got down on all fours, rummaging through the cabinets. Finally, the man found half a bottle of scotch and another half bottle of brandy. Neither of which he was very fond of.

Buddy set the two glass bottles on the counter and took a glass from the cabinet. He then proceeded to pull out a container of apple juice and a can of off-brand cream soda from the fridge. Buddy poured it all together, unceremoniously. He wasn't much for suicides, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

He knew he needed to think over what had been said in his fifteen-minute-life-altering conference with Angela.

He took a swig of the concoction and grimaced. She'd been harsh, extremely harsh. She'd called him on a lot of things, first, on his illegal company dealings. Worst of all, she had been right.

Buddy took yet another swig and headed back to the office.

This particular office had a small railing on one side looking down over a few floors. The change in the activity since he had left was shocking, but shutting down an entire sector of a company required the frenzy. He slid down the wall, glass in hand, and began to think about the other thing he and Angela had talked about, _Violet_.

He didn't want to ruin her future.

Angela had said that as much as he hated Mr. Incredible, he seemed to be rather fond of Invisigirl to say the least. She had been right about that too. Buddy took another sip.

He liked her, he could admit that much. He liked her a lot, and even if she was the daughter of his arch foe, he couldn't hate her. As much as he wanted to, as much as he said he did, Buddy Pine didn't hate Violet Parr.

He swallowed the rest of the liquid in three, solid gulps, and headed to bed. He could admit to not hating, perhaps even liking, Violet, but telling said super heroine of that fact was another thing entirely, a thing for tomorrow's agenda.

oOo

Violet sat in her room, or, as she had recently renamed it, Fort I'm Going to Kill the Next Person Who Comes in Here. It wasn't the catchiest name, but it was accurate. Unable to mentally digest everything that had occurred recently, she had put all of her energy into turning her cell into a battle zone. She had left the bed turned on its side, and had gathered up all possible projectiles behind it. Currently, she was working on taking apart the chair and using the legs as battering rams, to be used on trespassers. Without any sharp objects, it wasn't going well, obviously. So absorbed in her work, Violet didn't even hear the door.

"What the eff are you doing?"

She turned, and saw Syndrome staring at her, dumbfounded.

She reached for the nearest thing she could throw at him. "Making sure you know how mad I am at you." Her hand reeled back, but Buddy threw up his hands in a sign of surrender.

"Hold up, kid. No more throwing." Violet watched, hand still in the air, as Buddy slipped off his dress coat jacket and rolled up his sleeve revealing a large bandage. "This is from the soap dish. Oh, and for the record, no one but the janitors are going to care what you do to this room, now."

Violet cocked her head to the side. "What?"

Buddy smirked. He bent to pick up a sack and tossed it to her. When Violet opened it, warily, her eyes widened. "My super suit."

"Go put it on."

"Why?"

"Is it even possible for you to do something without having to ask a million prerequisite questions? I'm just wondering." Buddy watched as Violet hesitantly went to the bathroom. He tossed his jacket over the sideways bed and rolled up the other sleeve, just needing something _to do_.

When she came out, he inhaled quickly. The suit certainly looked different on her than he remembered. He shook his head and gestured for her to come closer. "Give me your wrist." She did, and he couldn't help but wonder why she seemed to trust him. He slid off her glove, and took hold of her warm hand. He pressed a few digits on the bracelet and it popped off. He rubbed his thumb over the electric burns, thinking.

"Why are you doing this?"

He didn't answer. Instead he turned, opening the door for her. Vi followed. She gasped when they entered the hallways. They were just so _busy_. "What's going on?"

Buddy chuckled. "It takes a lot people to shut down all the illegal parts of a company."

She stopped, but he didn't. "You want to save your dad, right?" The words didn't compute right away, but when they did, she was off. Buddy could tell when she was behind him again. He led her to the secret entrance to the complex and the waiting helicopter. "I have it programmed for autopilot. It will take you right to the bank, and you should be just on time to stop your father." Buddy opened the door and looked back to her.

Violet slowly walked up to the helicopter. "Why?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Because I realized something."

"What was that?" she whispered.

Buddy looked at her straight in the eye, and started to say it, but stopped himself. "Get in, kid."

She did, but did so without taking her eyes off of him. "Why?"

"_Because I didn't want to hurt you_." She reached out to him as he turned away, "Buddy-"

He stopped, looking back slightly. "It's Syndrome." He smiled, bitterly, "I'm the villain, remember." He began to walk away, but halted once more. "I almost forgot." He reached into the pocket of his dress slacks and pulled out her mask. He turned back to her and came close. Slowly, he propped himself up, by placing one knee on the seat.

They were so close now. She closed her eyes as he brought the mask towards her, and when his hands touched her face she thought back to the last time they had been this close.

He let his hands linger. Gently he pulled her head close, their lips barely touching, but it was enough for him. After a few moments, he heard the propellers begin to pick up speed. He pulled away, knowing it was time to go. He looked into her eyes, and she returned his look, his hand still on her cheek. "Go be the hero, Violet."

Buddy stepped down and shut the door. He walked away, but stopped to watch the helicopter lift up and the girl get smaller and smaller. He sighed.

"You did the right thing, sir."

He turned to see the doctor, smiling. Buddy was stopped in his tracks, but quickly came back with a harsh retort. "Did I _ask_ you for your input on the current situation, no I don't believe I did." With that he stalked past, the doctor barely making it out of the way in time. He passed by Angela, her weight all on one leg with her arms crossed over her chest, smug as ever. "He's right you know."

Buddy stopped for a moment, about to say something, but continued forward, leaving them both, and _her_, behind.

oOo

**A/N2: **Just for the record, it is 2:30 in the morning here, and I have a snow day tomorrow. So I promised myself I wouldn't go to bed without updating. I am just about to pass out, not gonna lie. So my rant, its long this time, because this chapter is, well was the climax.

My first issue with this chapter is The Kiss. So they had to kiss, ok, they just did! Unfortunately, I have never been kissed, so I have little knowledge to draw from! Sorry if my portrayal sucks. I can't really help it.

The alcohol. For the record, I don't approve of under aged drinking and such, but Syndrome is of the legal age and it seemed in character for him to do so. I also am not quite sure if it would be appropriate to mix brandy, scotch, apple juice, and cream soda, because I don't drink. I just thought it was a funny idea.

The age, GAH!!! Stupid Pixar and Disney, why oh, why did they have to be so far apart in age?!?!??!?!??!!

Ok, the fifteen minute Angela pep talk that is not written, only mentioned, that my dear readers, is called a 'cop-out' which is to say, I don't exactly know how to get Syndrome from point A (Evil) to point B (Not-evil). So I copped out. Sue me… wait actually don't sue me, just berate me view messaging.

I have an unhealthy obsession with dashes (- - -) and elipses (…) I'm sorry, I just can't help it!!

Olive Sansweet, what kind of name is Oliver Sansweet? Ditto for Doctor Randall and Angela Sanderson!!!

Finally, I was browsing the Synlet C2 for inspiration, when I realized, _I've read all these fics five times_. So, write. Write Synlet, all of you who have actually kissed and can write an accurate depiction!!

Ok, my rant is finished!! Now, onto the last chapter!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Incredibles, and I can admit that now…

**A/N:** So as not to spoil the chapter, 21 pages, by the way, the real author's note shall be at the end. This is just going to be a bunch of thank-you's. Because what would fanfiction be without the reviewers!?! Fyi, I went back and read all the comments that I have been given over the course of the entire fic, and made comments concerning those. Yes, I'm not _that_ random.

All Anonymous Reviewers: Thanks for all the reviews, guys. Keep on reading even if you don't have an account. You guys really gave me some of the most encouraging comments!!

auri mynonys: Wow… my first reviewer. All I can think of is when you alerted me to the fact that I called Lucius "Luscious" lol! Thanks for sticking with the story this whole time!! Also for writing your own Synlet, which I find amazing!!! Your encouragement has been very uplifting and your advice helpful!!

Blackheartz: I'm glad you like it. We need more people getting into Synlet, lol!

Broken Wings: Your encouragement was always very refreshing. I was always really happy to see someone so interested in my fic, lol!!

Deyinel: Thanks for the reviews. It's good to hear that _someone_ thinks everyone is IC. Sorry, I kind of let you down on the updating sooner part.

EclipseKlutz: One word… _Spiral_…? That ringing any bells? Jk, I'm just giving you trouble!! I wrote you a much longer thank you in the half finished WIB chapter.

::Ducks from flying object coming from her computer screen::

Yeah… I'm working on it, lol!

Fan-Friction: Well, I updated… updated… updated. (The "…" represent time, long spans of time). Thanks for the review.

Guille van Cartier: Oh gracious, how can I say thank you for drawing a _comic_ for my fic?!?! … Well I guess I kind of just did, but once again, thanks. That was one of the biggest shocks and honors I have ever had, lol. Glad to have another Synlet fan, as well as you converting me to Helen/Drew… lol.

Harmonic Friction: Glad you liked it!!

irishpiratess: You really know how to make an author happy… long reviews, lol. Really glad to see _Running_ up and, well to coin a phrase, running. It's wondrous, and one of the best Synlet's out there. Keep writing, and, of course, reviewing.

jla2snoopy: Yeah, inner thoughts are always fun place to start from.

Kanjilearner3309: Yeah deviant buddy… and read on, Stockholm syndrome is mentioned. I'm glad you read it, even though we all know you are pretty much strictly for Syn/Mirage.

NigaleCross: Thanks for sticking with the story. Hope you stick around for the sequel!!

Nocturnalwitch: Yeah… I haven't updated as often as I would have liked to, but hope it didn't bother you too much.

Only-eyes-for-Riddick: _More Alike_ and _Wedding Day Blues_ are both joyous, first. Am glad you liked my Synlet. It's a little more on the fluff side of things, but eh… it works, lol. Keep writing!!

Pinkey the Brain: This chapter isn't much shorter, lol. 20 pages, if you weren't paying attention earlier.

Princess Airiana: Hope all your questions were answered adequately, lol.

Rai Medvedsky: No snow in _that_ state… what the heck? I thought it snowed there like all the time. And, of course, I have read your oneshots!!

SyndromesGirlXOXO: Hope I haven't scared you away from Synlet, too badly, lol.

timeless-night-di: Thanks for the review. I do enjoy writing cliff hangers, lol, but I know how annoying they are to a reader.

The Star Swordsman: Glad you liked it. You were one of my first reviewers, _ever_, back over at _Mind_ _Games_. I'm glad to see you read this fic also, and that you added a slight hint of Synlet in _Syndrome's Return_. It made me happy on the inside.

vixon l: Well… now you get to see how it ends, lol, _BUT WAIT_…

There's a sequel!

_Dun, dun, duuuuuuunnnnn…_

**Timeline**: Syndrome's trial took one year. Then his house arrest was for four months. I'm guessing that Syndrome was eight when he attempted to become Incrediboy. So during the movie I'm saying that he was twenty-three. I'm also considering that the movie took place during spring. (They did go to a track meet) So Violet had just finished her eighth grade year and was going to be a freshman. Now a year and four months later she is into her sophomore year of high school, and she is **fifteen**, while Syndrome is **twenty-four**. I'm guessing its late August-early-September-ish. There you go, the longest background info you will ever get!!

Chapter 10

Violet held off tears until the helicopter turned away from the SyndroCorp complex. As the helicopter lurched forward, she managed to pull on a seat belt, through the tears. Her mind was watching _it_ - the kiss - again, and again, and again…

Vi gasped as she felt a slight free fall; they were making their descent. She looked out and gasped. There was her father, on the imposing steps of First National Bank of Metroville, and from this view, she could also see police cars hiding around the corners.

Vi clenched her fists, trying so hard not to hit random controls, reminding herself this wasn't some video game. She had to get down there. She just had to. Finally the helicopter landed, and Vi was all ready.

She hopped out of the door and started running. "_Daddy!_" She ran up the steps, two-by-two. "_Stop!_" She could hear something behind her, and she started to turn, to look, just enough to trip herself up. She couldn't help but thinking, as she fell, my alter ego has suddenly become a klutz as well as my secret identity. She closed her eyes, like the last time she had fallen…

Strong arms caught her and pulled her close. "Violet!"

Vi looked up and then never let go. "Daddy!" They cried together as the news cameras rolled on.

oOo

"You didn't alert the police that it had been a false alarm?"

Buddy struggled to turn his head. He had his feet propped up onto the table and was currently watching the news coverage. As Angela entered and shut the door behind her, he added stoically, "Now where's the fun in that?"

Angela shook her head and took a seat next to her boss. She assessed him. He looked good, better than she had expected, considering less than twenty four hours ago he officially hung his cape of villainy, metaphorically speaking. "You never cease to amaze me."

"Yeah, I'm full of surprises," he said, listlessly. "So, you bring any popcorn. I'm sure we'll be watching this for quite a while."

She crossed her arms over her chest, watching the father and daughter on television holding one another, "Can't you get it yourself?"

Buddy scoffed. "That's woman-work, woman."

"You are such a pig."

"Who spit in your coffee?"

"You're rather chipper for giving up a lifelong grudge-"

He stood abruptly. Apparently, his secretary had hit a nerve. "Hey! I didn't say anything about giving up my grudge. I'm just holding it at a distance." Angela watched him stalk off and out the door, apparently in pursuit of popcorn.

oOo

The days were fast-paced and filled with interview after interview. In each one, only her parents spoke, her and Dash were rarely acknowledged. She fell into bed, _her bed_, each night exhausted, but still a vault where the identity of her captor was involved, and for that, she was glad.

Her father had a lot to answer for, but the public seemed to forgive him, though his popularity had dropped significantly. They didn't like the fact that he was going to put his own daughter above the people, and Violet understood that the public thought they should always be first in the minds of supers, always before their own interests or even their own life. How selfish of her father to want to risk _everything_ to save _his_ daughter, but those were the criteria supers agreed to live up to, the minute they donned that gaudy costume, the young super knew.

The public was now cautious where Mr. Incredible was concerned, as was his own daughter.

She had to be guarded. They had only asked her a few times what had happened the day she had been set her free, but with all the publicity, there had been no time for formal interrogations.

Neither had Violet returned to school, yet another perk of all the publicity. So, two weeks after being freed, sitting on the living room couch, she was shocked to hear a voice coming from the entry hall.

Dash had rushed to answer the door, thinking it was another reporter - her brother had fallen into the lime light with surprising grace - but the visitor was someone unexpected, Tony Rydinger.

"Um, is Violet feeling any better?"

Dash sighed, obviously disappointed that his picture wouldn't be gracing any newspaper covers tomorrow. "Yeah, tons," he turned. "Violet, your boyfriend is at the door."

Vi blinked, and stood. "He-he's not my boyfriend." She glared at Dash as he stalked away. "Hey, Tony-" Her words fell short, when she noticed he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Um, these are for you." He held them out awkwardly. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

Vi blinked again, but then recalled her parent's lie. They had told the school she had been sick with strep throat. It was too much of a risk for Violet Parr to be kidnapped at the exact same time as Invisigirl. "Thanks, Tony." They stood, awkwardly, for a while, and Violet sighed, realizing she would have to be the one to break the silence. Why did men have to be so lacking of backbone? "So, is there something you wanted to talk about?"

He smiled, nervous, and said, "Yeah, actually. I've been thinking, while you were gone, and I guess I just realized what I'd lost, and-"

"_Wait!_" Violet turned, putting a hand to her head. She could see what was coming next, and she simply didn't want it to. This was happening too quickly, and she had to fight the urge to disappear. "Just wait."

"What do you mean? I'm trying to tell you that I don't think I should have broken up with you."

"_That's why I said wait!_"

"I also came to tell you that I broke things off with Brittany." Tony said.

"You did _what_? Ok, Tony." She held her breath and paced. If there was one thing she had learned, and she had learned more than she cared to acknowledge, from her time with Buddy Pine, it was that she had no more feelings for Tony Rydinger past that of deep, sister-like, friendship. "You shouldn't do that." She said it calmly. Her eyes were clear and determined, as she turned down the boy she had longed for, for so long.

"Why not?"

"Because, Tony, I'm your friend, and that's all I want to be. I think that it's all you really want too."

"No, Vi-"

"Tony, you just missed me, because that's what happens when your friends leave. You miss them, but don't throw something…" she looked for the correct word, but settled with the only one that came to mind, "amazing, like Brittany, just because you _missed_ one of your best friends." Violet paused, but then walked up, and handed him the flowers. "I think these belong to someone else."

Tony looked Violet in the eyes, but even he didn't see that what was there. "Yeah. I guess you're right." He smiled his pretty boy smile, and that _almost _made Violet crack. She wanted to spill. She had so many thoughts within her, that were pushing her apart, from the inside out, but she held her tongue and her heart, letting him continue. "How can you always be right?"

"I'm not; I guess I just get lucky." She smiled, though it was a tight one, still holding everything in.

"You could really drive a guy crazy, you know that?"

She chuckled. "So I've been told."

"What?"

Her face fell, but she recovered almost immediately. "Oh. you know how much trouble I get into at school for being a know-it-all. Now, you finally realized it too."

He nodded, his long hair shifting slightly, she noticed. "Ok, will you be back at school tomorrow?"

"Probably."

"Than, I will see you then."

oOo

Violet did indeed see Tony Rydinger the next day, as well the ever glamorous, Brittany, but the cheerleader didn't go out of her way to talk to her, shockingly enough. Vi exchanged only quick greetings with Tony.

Same with the next day,

And the next,

And the next,

And the next,

And so forth for some time, until Violet became used to the idea that the couple had made amends. After seeing them locked in passionate embraces on multiple occasions, she knew for a fact that everything was back to normal. It wasn't so much that she hoped ill for the couple, it was more the fact that she was discontent and needed a distraction as well as a reason to explain her sullen mood to her parents.

Yes, her parents had started wondering why she was acting strangely. She had blamed it on being tired, but that excuse had worn out its welcome. Yesterday, her mother had stated, "You certainly are tired, lately." It was said in a knowing voice, one that Vi couldn't deal with right now.

Because, right now, she would crack.

If asked, she would crack, and she couldn't crack. She had to become a vault, no one in, no one out. She needed to lock down everything she couldn't say. She needed a new alibi, multiple ones to be exact, and that was what Violet had been contemplating when a certain cheerleader interrupted her thoughts.

"Tony," she scoffed. Violet jumped slightly and turned, peering out from behind her locker. The school's golden couple was fighting again, shocker. "I can't even believe you would say that."

"Then why don't you prove me wrong?"

She chuckled. "Maybe I will." Violet watched as the blond whipped her head around and started walking…

Directly towards her. Violet turned into her locker and began to attend more pressing matters, rearranging her books alphabetically.

"Hey, Violet," a too-happy voice, exclaimed.

Vi sighed and answered, "Hi, Brittany."

"Yeah, so I was wondering." She added the next part a little louder than necessary for someone's benefit, other than Violet, "Since we're such good friends and all, if you would want to go out with me and a couple other girls on the squad to the mall today."

Violet watched as Brittany turned back to see a rather embarrassed Tony. Vi knew Brittany didn't think she would accept her offer, or else she wouldn't have asked.

Violet hated that she was somehow still connected to these two people, that she would much rather forget. She doubted her and Tony would ever be actual friends again, and she had no intention of being another of Brittany's boot-lickers. She was mad that Tony had pulled her into their already tangled relationship. She was mad at Brittany for being such a jerk. Then, Violet had an idea. She swallowed and set out to put on her best Angela impression. "Sure. I would love to."

Brittany's head snapped so quickly, Vi wondered if it would be sore tomorrow. "Really?"

"Yeah. It sounds fun."

The cheerleader's smile vanished. "Fine, see you after school. I'll meet you in the entry hall."

oOo

Meet they did, and Violet rode with Brittany and three other girls - cheerleaders, apparently, because Brittany was not known to associate herself with anyone less, until now - to the mall.

Surprisingly enough, she hadn't had an absolutely horrible time. The cheerleaders could be funny from time to time, and the only trouble was Vi's feeling of awkwardness. She had escaped to a small book store, while the others were in a small, jewelry boutique. She was so intrigued with her possible purchase that she didn't see Brittany approaching until she was right in front of her. Vi shut her book slowly, holding her spot with her finger.

Brittany smirked at this. "I didn't think you'd come."

Vi laughed. "Neither did I."

This seemed to phase the air-head, who was turning out to not be so air-headed, if only for the moment. "You know, you aren't quite the uptight, for lack of a better word, loser I thought you were."

Violet cocked her head to the side and decided blunt was the only way to go with this girl. "Now, that was an insult meant to sound like a compliment. I hate when girls do that. I mean, really, how am I supposed to take that?"

The gorgeous girl rolled her eyes. "Take it however you want, but I was wondering a few things. First, what did you say to Tony to make him come back?"

"I-I didn't say anything."

"Don't even give me that bull crap. I know you did. He left me for you, but suddenly we are back together. Somewhere there's a variable that I'm not adding in here."

"Oh, three points for big word, but I didn't do anything."

Brit slung an arm over the bookshelf. "Well, whatever you did, I didn't _need_ your help, but I guess I am saying thank you, because you saved me the trouble of conniving my way back into his good graces. Whether you choose to believe it or not, I really like Tony." Violet was taken back, but before she could ponder too much on this new revelation, Brittany changed the subject. "Have you talked to your little friend Karen-"

"Kari."

"Kari, lately?"

Vi wondered where she was going with this. "I've been sick, and haven't been able to talk to anyone."

The blond smirked, flipping some of her big, blond hair, over her shoulder. "Then I guess you haven't heard that she is dating the junior varsity quarterback."

Violet holds back the response she knows Brittany is looking for. "No, I hadn't heard that."

"Interesting, well, I mean he is quite a guy. I mean, he isn't gorgeous, but if I had to pick someone on the JV team it would be him. Also, since Kari, you said her names was, lost the head gear she isn't too bad looking, in a cute sort of way. They make a good couple."

"Yeah, I'm sure they do," Violet said, not sure whether to slug this chick or run away.

"I bet that this whole thing will mean less time for you and her to hang out, am I right?"

Violet tried to hide her utter shock. "I doubt that, but perhaps."

The cheerleader flashed a winning smile. "I'm going to head back over the jewelry store, see you in a few minutes."

Violet took a moment to compose herself behind the book shelf and put back the book, having lost interest. She made her way back to the others, having no idea what had just transpired.

oOo

Brittany chose to drop off Violet last, which came as no surprise to the young super. The car ride was silent, until they stopped in front of her house. Vi was surprised to see an older car parked in her driveway, but the blond's voice drew back her attention. "So, you should think about what I said earlier, and we can talk later, ok?"

This time her voice was softer, more serious, and it lacked its sharp overtones of before. "I guess. Thanks for the ride." She hopped out and hurried to the door. Brittany waited until she was in the door to peel out and be on her way.

Vi shook her head and went to look for who was currently at her domain. "Mom, dad, I'm home."

"We're in the kitchen, honey." Her mom's voice called out.

Her mother's voice was warm and cheery, but Violet knew something was up. She entered the bright kitchen and watched as Rick Dicker turned to face her.

_The jig is up…_

Her father and Rick had been laughing, but when she had entered the room, they stopped. "Violet, I know we never got to talk much about the kidnapping…" her father started, but her mother cut in.

"Rick just wanted to ask you a few questions for NSA records. Is that ok with you, Vi?"

Violet smiled, but inwardly was quaking, "Sure."

Her mom, too, smiled, but her mouth was stretched tight, revealing that she also felt the static tension in the air. "Rick said the questions have to be asked in private. Your father and I are going to your brother's football game, alright honey?"

She blinked and dry swallowed a gulp of air, "Ok."

Her mother grabbed her purse and walked past, quickly followed by Bob. Violet listened for the door to open and shut to the garage, before sighing. Then, she realized that this situation could hardly be considered better than the first.

_Out of the frying pan and into the fire_.

"Well, Violet, if you would have a seat we can get started." Violet walked into the dinning room and sat down in her usual seat. The room was just beginning to get dark. She refused to look up, when she heard Rick's voice again.

"This conversation has to be recorded."

Now, Vi looked.

Rick made eye contact with her - she felt naked. _He knows, somehow, someway he knows_ - and took a handheld tape recorder from his jacket. "Do you understand?"

She mutely nodded.

He set the recorder down and pressed the little red button. She could see the two round knobs begin to turn, to take hold of the silence.

"This agent Rick Dicker, at the Parr residence on the Friday afternoon, to collect knowledge about the kidnapping of super, Violet Parr, Invisigirl." He continued without looking at her. "Miss Parr, do you understand and consent to have this conversation tape recorded?"

"Yes," her voice croaked, uncomfortable with the idea.

"Do you also verify that everything you say is the truth?"

Violet breathed in. She'd done this before. She could do it again. "I do."

"Good, now, is it true that you have before stated to your parents, Mr. and Mrs. Parr, Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl, respectively, that you do not know the identities or any defining features of your kidnappers."

"Yes."

"How did your kidnappers disguise themselves?"

He was pacing right behind her, slowly. It was unnerving, though not nearly as unnerving as when _he_ used to pace behind her. "They wore masks."

"They wore masks the entire time you were there?"

"Yes."

"Could you even denote gender?"

"They were all male, I think." She mentally smacked herself for her hesitation. She couldn't start hesitating. She couldn't because if she did, she might never stop.

"How did they treat you?"

Violet had a mental hiccup and wished he would go back to the simple questions. She had never really thought out this part of her yarn. She exhaled, knowing whatever she did say had to instantly become her reality. "I was kept in a small, dark room. They fed me well, and that was pretty much it."

_Crappy reality you just spun…_

_I don't have time to talk to you, inner self…_

_Sure you do. You certainly aren't busy thinking through our lies…_

_Not helping…_

"Did they question you at all?"

"Um, briefly."

She heard Rick stop pacing.

"Concerning?"

_Eff, you really screwed us up this time…_

_SHUT UP!!_

"It was very briefly, trying to find my father's weaknesses, the usual."

He humphed, but did, to Violet's great relief, continue. "How exactly did you escape? Your parents mentioned something about a guard assisting you."

"Yeah, a guard came in one day and told me to follow him. He led me to the helicopter, said it was on autopilot and left."

"Did your kidnappers," he paused, and Vi could tell he was uncomfortable. "Did your keepers _harm_ you in any way?"

It took her a second, but then she realized the implications. She chuckled nervously. "No, I'm all _intact_."

"Is there anything else in particular that you believe would be useful in the investigation, Ms. Parr?"

He'd believed her, what a shock. "No."

Rick walked to the table and picked up the tape recorder. "And once again do you verify that everything that you have said is the absolute truth?"

He was looking at her, but she stared at her hands, clenched, resting on the table. One last lie, till she was home free. "Yes."

"Once again, this is agent Rick Dicker, number forty-seven A, with Violet Parr," He clicked the tape recorder and sighed, "The rest we will discuss without the tape recorder. Violet, your parents believe you are withholding information from them." He leaned against the table and crossed his arms. "Should they?"

She blinked. Apparently, she wasn't home free, yet. "No, why would they think that?"

He began to pace again. "They believe it, because it's obvious." Violet held her head down, her neck muscles straining, as he walked around the table. She could see him, back and forth, in her peripheral. Slowly he began to lay them, small squares of paper in front of her, in two neat rows. "Do you recognize any of these?"

She forced herself to look up, and then, dropped her head again, groaning. "No."

They were of her and Buddy, the night of the opera. There were two of when she had gotten out of the car, five of them outside during intermission, and a shot from far away and above, but you can distinctly see the man's hand covering her own.

"Let me get this straight," his voice still held onto its previous exasperation, but now held a tone of impatience. "You are telling me that you don't recognize these?"

"What else am I supposed to say?" she asked, head still on the table.

"The truth."

She looked up suddenly. "You have me on tape. It isn't like I can retract anything. What are my parents going to say?" She put her face into her hands in despair.

"They aren't going to say anything."

Violet peeked an eye, through her fingers. "What?"

"You tell me everything, and we will go from there."

"Are you going to tell my parents?"

He shrugged, "Depends. Violet, I took a risk in this. I am the only person at NSA who knows of these photographs. I took a chance for you."

"Why?"

"Because I believe you had a reason. You are too much like your parents not to." Violet turned away, looking out the window, thinking about her reason. "Why did you protect him?"

"My parents would never believe me."

"Believe what?"

"He has changed. He's grown up. He doesn't deserve life imprisonment. He deserves a second chance."

If she had been looking, she would have seen the faintest hint of a smile creep onto the old man's face, but as quickly as it had appeared it left. "I can live with that response. Now, fill in the blanks, because from these pictures _ideas_ can be drawn." Vi blushed, but the older man didn't seem to notice. "Tell me everything that I don't already know."

"What don't you know?"

"You tell me."

She sighed, at his use of circular reasoning, and decided the best place would always be the beginning. She began to talk.

She talked until she could feel the tears begging to be set free, but she held them in. Though she faltered and chose to omit the two kisses, if the last could even be called that, but Rick got the picture. After she had finished they sat in the dark silence that had encompassed the Parr dining room. The old man rubbed his forehead. "I am a man of regulations, and today I just about broke every single dang one of 'em. Let me make you a deal, but if you agree to this, I expect the truth and nothing less."

Violet nodded profusely. "What do I have to do?"

"Never see him again. Sure, he will be on television, but you cannot seek him out, for any reason, or I will tell your mother and father quicker than a whip stitch. I will tell them I just now received the photographs. You, obviously, weren't afraid to lie, so neither am I."

Violet swallowed. "Alright."

"You don't seem too sure. This is for your own good. He is not trust worthy. He tried to kill you," she tried to speak in his defense, but Rick continued. "That may be in the past, but let us not forget he kidnapped you and blackmailed your father. Yes, he didn't set you free, but that still does not excuse him."

"He's not a bad person."

"That may be true, but he is also eight years your junior."

Vi face blushed instantly. "I don't,_ you know_."

"Love? Is that what you are trying to say?"

She nodded.

"You may not love him, Ms. Parr, but you saved him for some reason. You say it is because you saw his better half, but I have a feeling that there may be a little more to your story."

Violet shook her head emphatically.

"I am more learned than you might think. I majored in psychology, and if I remember correctly, Stockholm Syndrome victims never realize what they have." At the shocked look from Vi, he threw down his hands. "Enough. Do we have a deal?"

Violet faltered, surprised at her own hesitation. Finally she mustered an answer, "Yes. I promise I will never see him again."

oOo

The next day Violet woke up late. She had hit the snooze button six too many times, and now it was extremely late. She groaned rolling out of bed and onto the floor.

"Violet, are you ready?" Her mother asked from the other side of the door.

"No, I sort of slept in."

The door opened, showing Helen with Jack-Jack on her hip. "Vi, didn't you listen last night. I can't wait. Jack-Jack has a doctor's appointment." She shook her head. "You are just going to have to take the bus."

"Mom-"

She was cut off by Dash's voice, "Mom, we're going to be late."

Mrs. Parr turned back to her daughter. "I'm sorry honey, but you can manage the bus for just one day, right?"

She sighed, playing the obedient daughter. "Yeah."

"That's my girl."

Vi waited for the sounds of her family leaving before pulling herself to her feet. She had tossed and turned all night, sleep evading her. She looked in the mirror. Her hair wasn't too oily, and its state mattered little. If she didn't leave soon, she would miss the bus. She exchanged her pajamas for jeans and the first clean tee shirt on the floor. She grabbed her backpack and ran out, only taking a second to lock the door behind her.

She finally reached the corner as the last few kids were getting on. Vi hoped on, and looked for Kari, who always took the bus, but was shocked to find, not just Kari, but a burly boy sitting beside her.

Her friend hadn't seen her, too busy talking to her apparent boyfriend, so Violet took the first seat open and set her backpack beside her. She fell into a daze, almost asleep, when the bus came to a very loud corner.

"But, I'm _right_!"

"No, you're not."

The girl's voice chuckled, but even Violet could tell, whoever it was, was not happy in the least. "You're cute, but irritating, and yes, I am right."

Vi finally saw that the owner of the voice was none other than Brittany, making its male counterpart…

"_Dang!_ Violet you look like you just got hit by a truck."

Brittany stopped moving and turned back to Violet, the bus steps, and her boyfriend. After a moment, she yelled, "Tony, you are such an idiot! You never ever tell a girl that she looks bad when she actually does. You're so _stupid!_" Then Brittany sat down next to Violet, pushing the backpack to the ground that had been formerly holding the spot.

Vi watched as Tony walked, shocked and confused at yet again losing a battle to the seemingly gentle and demure blond, to the back of the bus, sitting with the guys. She then sat back and tried not to move, hoping that by not moving she wouldn't upset the precarious balance of Brittany's silence…

"Why are you riding the bus, Parr?"

"I slept in, as you can see, and I would make this sentence a direct address, but I don't know your last name," Violet huffed making her bad mood evident.

Brittany seemed to ignore the comment and began to pick at her nails. "I see you are now aware that _Kari_ really has a boyfriend, if you hadn't believed me." Violet didn't bother with a response, and, apparently, Brittany didn't seem to need one. "Do you know, Chandler?"

Vi searched her memory, though not with much zealous, and came up with a vague picture of a brunette cheerleader. "Yeah, brown hair, right?"

"Yes, brunette, blue eyes, and freckles. She dated the running back last year, but that fell through. Even if it hadn't, it wouldn't really matter now." Violet turned her head, finally having a faint hint of where this might be going. "She's moving, to Florida, the lucky slut."

Violet blinked, shocked at Brittany's description of her own friend, "So."

"So, the rest of the squad is pretty much made up of girls who are only crony-worthy hotties. Chandler was the only one on that squad who would actually talk back to me. The rest of them agree with me, no matter what I say." She chuckled, at memories, Vi assumed, and continued, "But that is only fun for so long. With Chandler leaving, I need someone who isn't afraid to tell me what they really think. Despite what you might believe, I don't completely hate you."

Violet just stared. "You can't be serious."

"No really, with a little work you could be a great best friend, and it looks to me," she spared a glance back at Violet, "like you are in serious need of one."

"I don't need you," she said, harshly, when the bus pulled to a stop in front of the high school building. "My life is already complicated enough."

She chuckled, in a similar manner as someone who was no longer aloud space in her mind. "Looks like you do need a ride home. I could drive you."

"Where's your car if you road the bus?"

"Daddy is getting the oil changed, but he is bringing it by at lunch." She stood and picked up her things, giving the seat opposite them an eyeful due to her miniskirt. "I'll see you at the front after dismissal, Parr."

"No you won't, but have a great day," she said in a voice reminiscent on the same man who she still wasn't allowed to think about.

Violet walked through her day as if in a dream, one she hoped would end soon. During first hour, Kari sat with her boyfriend, but _did_ acknowledge Vi's existence.

The next three hours, she spent battling imposing thoughts, which as of last night no longer belonged within her mind. At lunch she realized she needed a distraction. After grabbing her lunch tray, she went to find Kari. She wasn't shocked to see her sitting with the Junior Varsity jocks. She stood aimlessly, and saw a spot on the end next to Brittany. She sat down quietly, wishing she was invisible.

After about five minutes, Brittany realized there was someone next to her. She smiled, "I knew you would come around."

oOo

The lawyer tilted his head to the side, flabbergasted. "So, you are asking-"

"_Hypothetically_!" Buddy Pine added in, emphatically.

The lawyer raised his hands in a peaceful gesture, "You are asking, hypothetically what would happen if you, per say, kidnapped a female super, who happens to be a minor and your nemesis' daughter?"

"Yes, that is what I'm asking, hypothetically."

The lawyer tore of his glasses shaking his head, "Do you _enjoy_ making my job difficult?"

The CEO stood in a threatening manner, "Hey, I am asking hypothetically. Did you _hear_ me admit to anything?"

The skinny man sighed and put his glasses back on, "And for my sanity, I will pretend to believe you."

"So what's verdict?"

"There is absolutely no way you would evade prison. At minimal fifty years, lucky for your _hypothetical_ character kidnapping for blackmail purposes is one of the few capital crimes in most states."

Buddy nodded briskly. "Well, thank you for the consultation." He motioned to the door, and his lawyer shook his head.

At the door the man stopped, "You seem like one of my less, for lack of a better word, shady patrons. Please, don't give me a reason to think any more less of you."

Buddy rolled his eyes. "I'm the one who is paying you. I also jump started your career. I don't need any 'life lessons with Ronald S. Copran.'"

"Don't look down on my advice, Mr. Pine. You may be paying my bills, but I'm not the one whose life is on the line."

"Thanks for your concern, but weren't you leaving?"

The lawyer huffed and turned to leave, but not without running right into Angela. Buddy watched as they smiled and passed awkwardly. As soon as the door shut he smacked his forehead. "Do not tell me you two _know_ each other, if you know what I mean."

Angela giggled, "What can I say. We are old friends."

"I thought you were a one man woman?"

"I said _old_ friend," Angela snapped. "So what was he here for?"

"A consult."

Now it was Angela's turn to groan. "You _told_ him."

"No, I just had a legal question-"

"You are such an idiot. Do you _want_ everyone to know you are a kidnapper," she paused but added, "and have a strange fetish for a fifteen year old girl."

"Hey! That was out of line!"

"Then stop trying to incarcerate yourself!" Angela threw the papers in the air and headed to the door.

"No! You stay. I'll leave." He grabbed his jacket, and was out the door, pushing Angela out of the way. He needed alcohol, and fast.

oOo

Angela had stomped out her previous anger. She had successfully trashed his office, even though she knew that it would be up to her to right everything. Then, she had left to find her boss. After looking through eight bars, she finally found her employer, and, it was no great surprise, he was sloshed.

Angela walked up to the pool table where Buddy and three other drunk me were attempting to play, but she couldn't help but think they were more likely to poke out an eye than hit a ball.

"You are _drunk_."

The man wobbled and motioned to himself with a bottle of beer. "No, I… am… interrogated." He began to fall forward, but Angela stepped in.

She pulled his arm around her shoulders and held back her upchuck reflex, due to the alcoholic smell in the air. "I believe the word you are looking for is intoxicated."

She grabbed his arm and had him outside before he had even registered that he was moving. "Hey… where-erwe… going?"

"I am taking you home."

"Wha-eva." He tried to pull away. "I have an interview in an hour, and I needed something… something to loosen me up."

"Well you are loose, alright." She looked to her boss. He was grinning ear to ear. "Anyway, you _had_ an interview, but now you also _had_ an emergency, and will have to tape the interview tomorrow when you are more lucid."

"Hey, baby, I am as lucid as I will ever be." He nodded his head in her direction, in a chauvinistic manor.

She shook her head.

"Wa? So I got a little… tipsy-"

"'Drunk as a skunk' is more accurate."

"Fine… what was I, oh yeah, so I got plastered. So what? Did I disappoint Miss Angela?"

She groaned, his weight hardly bearable, and decided tomorrow, Buddy Pine would be going on a diet. "No, but _she_ would be disappointed, if _she_ could see you like this."

"Then she'd know what a complete shmuck I really am, absolutely… without a shadow of a doubt…. does not deserve the Man… of the Year Award."

Angela halted. "_What?_"

"Why did we stop-"

"_You_ are up for Man of the Year?"

"Yeah, that is what the… interview… is for." He started giggling to himself. "You know… the funny part is… that my only… competition is her dad!"

oOo

Violet had changed over the past few weeks, and her family had noticed. Though her usual sarcasm had been knocked up a few notches, her mood was bland and grey. There seemed to be nothing that could bring an emotional response from her.

There were only two times when the family saw Violet show emotion. The first was when they were battling villains, then the emotion being anger and vengeance. Helen wondered if she hadn't used the fighting as an outlet for her anger at _something_.

The second was when she was around that new friend. Violet had needed someone. She needed a diversion, and Brittany's life of intrigue was just what the doctor ordered. When the blond was around, Vi was active, unlike her now-usual sloth self, and chipper, sometimes biting with her comments towards the other girl's actions.

Helen wondered where her daughter had come up with this new burst of self confidence, to actually tell off one of her friends and not fear rejection. She knew it had something to do with Violet's kidnapping, and she doubt that it was as simple as the story she had fed the family.

Rick had told both parents, after the interview that her story lined up, and seemed to him that she was telling the truth, but Rick seemed to pop up at their house more often. Helen was no idiot, she saw the exchange, the look in Violet's eyes, and knew there was more to the story.

Unfortunately, Helen had her own problems. It had so happened, that teaching Jack-Jack about what times were and were not appropriate to use his powers was not as easy as with the other children. Also, the idea to start working again had been flitting in the back of her mind for months now.

So she watched, as her daughter took baby steps, away from her.

That evening her husband had insisted on having. He was a sucker for all the American pastimes, baseball, picnics, and cookouts. Of course, his favorite part of all these was the food. Dash and Violet both had invited a friend. Which, her daughter's friend was both a cause for relief and concern. Helen had thought this over in her mind; her daughter had made friends with a popular, beautiful cheerleader. She knew something was off. She was happy for her daughter in the sense that perhaps the friendship might push her daughter into being the social butterfly all mothers hope their daughters will become, but Helen also could see that this Brittany was not the most family-conscious girl. Violet was also out running around with this girl, and she doubt that this would help Vi open up.

Also, not surprising, Rick Dicker had showed up. Helen had done her best to not let the troubles of tomorrow ruin today, and soon enough Jack-Jack pulled her attention away from Violet.

The young super herself knew that her parents were still unsettled with the way things had turned out, but she kept pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind until they could no longer reach her, and all she could hear was the too loud music Brittany blasted out of her car stereo.

She was carrying a bowl of fruit salad out to the patio. Brittany was right beside her, paper plates and utensils in hand, complaining about Tony, one of her favorite activities. She was so intoned to her own speech that she didn't see that Violet had stopped in front of the television. She knocked into her and started to say something, but noticed how intent Violet was on the current program…

oOo

They had opted for a live interview, and that did nothing to allay Buddy's new feelings of insecurity. He had never before felt uncomfortable in this kind of situation. He always had done so well with crowds and being charismatic. The villain wiped his forehead of sweat and chalked it up as one more way _that_ _girl_ had screwed him up.

"Now I'm sure all of America is wondering why you are here, with us today. Why don't we fill them in, Buddy," perky Melissa Alvers said. She and the CEO were sitting in an on-stage living room. It was filled with fake plants and lamps, giving it a warm, but very fake ambiance. Thankfully, the lights were low enough that they didn't irritate Buddy's hang over. He was sitting in his uncomfortable couch, a hand to his head, trying to find a somewhat acceptable position, but that, he had found, was impossible. They had been there for about a half an hour taping and re-taping the opening remarks of the interview. It was all Buddy could do not to gouge out his eyeballs.

She turned back to the camera, flashing it a sparkling, too white, smile. "Mr. Pine was kind enough to sit with us while we announce that he is in the running for Man of the Year-"

The reporter cut short as she heard chuckling from the interviewee. She and the camera turn to a red-faced Buddy.

"What is with you people?" He started out in a playful manner, but soon his demeanor turned sour. "Don't you get it? I _murdered_ hundreds of people!" He stood, and the reporter's quiet voice could be heard trying to calm him, but he spoke over her. "All I have done is run some races, write some checks, and evade prison. Don't you see?" The man shook his head with exasperation that had been building for weeks. "I don't deserve this award. I don't deserve _any_ of this!" He paused taking a breath and began again, but this time more calm. "I am pulling out of the race-"

"But you haven't told them-"

The camera man was sure that all he was getting was a blur, going from the reporter back to the CEO.

"Tell them yourself." He turned to leave, but turned back, looking right into the camera, "I may be young and rich, but I am a murderer, and _nothing_ I do can _ever_ change that. All I'm doing is trying to atone for a debt that can never be paid for." He left, throwing his microphone to the ground.

"Well," she tried to compose herself, but to no avail. "Mr. Pine-"

She stopped mid sentence, as muffled expletives and voices could be heard offstage.

"_Mr. Pine you can't say that on television._"

"_That's what the ------- bleeper is for!" _

"_Please, Mr. Pine take a moment-"_

"_You take a --- ---- moment!" _

She smiled and did her best to ignore the banter off stage. "Mr. Pine is, _was_, up for Man of the Year, but that is not the only reason we invited him here-"

She paused as something crashed. Then, a female's voice could be heard, quite clearly.

"_Buddy Lionel Pine-"_

"_How the ---- do you know my middle name?"_

"_Stop making a total --- of yourself and get out now…_march_!" _

"He was also here to inform the public of his new Super's College Fund. The fund is quite a marvel. It will cover all college expenses for any super or child of a super who wishes to go to college, for both undergraduate and graduate studies. The fund, Mr. Pine mentioned before we started this interview, was designed to allow children who perhaps have devoted huge chunks of their lives to protecting others and have not had the time to devote towards their studies or raising money an equal opportunity where higher learning is concerned…"

oOo

Violet couldn't speak. Her mouth was instantly dry, and apparently so was everyone else's. She looked around. Her mother, holding Jack-Jack, was stunned. Dash too was absolutely still. The room was silent as they continued to watch the charming Melissa Alvers spin a tale of an always charitable and kind Buddy Pine, making the audience forget what a maniac he had been not fifteen minutes earlier.

"I'll take this outside," Helen said, breaking the tension in the room. She tired to hide her exaltation and complete shock with non-supers in the house, but Vi could see that it was there. As soon as she was out of the door, Brittany asked. "You alright, Violet?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just the Buddy Pine thing, weird, huh?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well, don't you think it is kind of interesting?"

"You have to remember, that I'm not much for current events, more current fashion. I'm going outside." Vi rolled her eyes at the lack of confirmation.

"It is interesting."

She turned and saw that Rick Dicker was still in the room with her. "I've kept our bargain."

He nodded in his tired manner. "I know, and I would know if you had, but you have to wonder why he would do this."

"No you don't."

"You know this also means your dad, Mr. Incredible, is going to receive the Man of the Year award."

"No, I didn't know that."

The man shrugged. "I think is dinner ready. You coming?"

She knew she had little choice. no matter how much she wanted to watch the rest of the interview, no matter how much she wanted to go find _him_ right now, she would have to content herself with holding onto that little piece of hope, like a candle, inside her heart and mind that no one could blow out, not Rick Dicker, not her parents, not even the former villain himself. "Yeah, I guess I am."

oOo

**A/N: **Wow… I'm done. What an odd feeling. Anyway, I can't make this too long. My school dance is tonight, and I have to go get my hair done, lol. So this is going to be short and to the point.

Rick Dicker is one hard character to write for. I tried to make him sound a little country-ish, because that is the feel I got from the movie, but I don't know how well I did.

Angela and Brittany are too much alike… sort of. Also, Angela seems to be really grumpy in this chapter. I need a reason why, lol. Maybe her and her man are on the rocks?

The sequel is coming, but how soon, I don't know. I'm not doing so hot in my Spanish IV class, and I'm up for valedictorian. School and homework comes first, duh!!

This is an old note; _Dash could so be a quarterback!!!_ He has super speed, plus he could just run underneath all those other guys.

Melissa Alvers belongs to Guille van Cartier, and the lawyer I threw in because I liked her drawing in the comic. She also came up with his name!! Thanks, Guille!!

I believe that is it!! One more thing. I made a Synlet fansite. Check it out. I need help with it, so if anyone is interested, tell me:

http/www. geocities. com/ synlet beautifuldisaster/ index. htm

I hope you guys have enjoyed reading this fic, as much as I have enjoyed writing it!! Keep reading reviewing and writing. God Bless,

crzysheelf


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